


Bad Business

by Oscurita



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Happy!Arthur, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow (ish) burn, pre-game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oscurita/pseuds/Oscurita
Summary: Set just over eighteen months before the events at Blackwater.Worlds collide when the oncoming winter leads Arthur to meet a woman who has the solution to a few of the gangs problems, but her offer comes with a whole heap of trouble.





	1. No Dominion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> So it's been three weeks since I completed the main campaign and I'm still crying over Arthur. I knew the only thing that would make me feel better would be writing a fic, I couldn't help myself, so here I am. 
> 
> All the state/place names are made up, because my knowledge of American geography is almost as lacking as my knowledge of the 19th century. I've tried to stick as close to canon as possible, even though I'm playing around with events before Blackwater. 
> 
> I haven't looked around here at what's already been posted, so if someone is using this title already, hit me up! They say it so much in the game, I couldn't resist using it! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! :o)

_"Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
And death shall have no dominion."_  
**\- Dylan Thomas**

He lay there drenched in the setting sun, world around him silent apart from the wet rattle emanating from his chest. Body stiff and cold as a chill sank deep into his bones, life draining from his being with each passing second.

He was afraid; more so than he'd ever been. Afraid of how long it would take to end and what was to come for him when life finally slipped from his grasp. Scared to imagine what punishment was waiting on the other side, terrified of damnation and torment, believing that was all he was due, until the moment he felt her there. 

At first she came as a faint taste of raspberries on his lips, then a familiar weight and warmth at his side, a gentle pressure on his chest. The smell of spring flowers and something uniquely her, a scent he'd fallen asleep with so many times. 

He didn't think it could be true, it seemed unreal that she'd arrive at his side in that moment. Yet the ghost of her gentle caress moving along his arm, from knuckles to neck, cast him right back to all those nights they'd spent together in each others arms. A sensation so real, magical and warm it felt like everything else before that moment had been a dream. A touch that promised perhaps heaven waited for him after all. 

Her tenderness and comforting presence alone acted like morphine to help ease the overwhelming pain and fear that sliced to his core. Giving him comfort and providing a strange kind of hope in his last moments. Head filling with joyful memories, body awash with the warmth of love as the light slowly faded from his eyes. 

Despite the hurt she'd left him with, she had kept her promise after all. She'd returned to him, just as she said she would. A companion on his last journey, there to comfort him and aid his transition through worlds, to take him on home. Leading him to the place where they could both begin to find lasting happiness and true peace that would hold them for eternity.


	2. The Beginning Of The End

**September 18th 1897 - Well Haven, Danbury.**

Arthur had lost track of just how long he'd been standing there in the station, tapping his foot impatiently as the line behind him began to lengthen. He was getting old stood there, practically feeling the stubble on his face growing as boredom ate him alive. He'd only come into town to buy a new set of spurs, and had stopped in at the station to pick up the camp's mail. It was a straight in and out job -or so he thought- and it would have been of course, if it wasn't for the well dressed older woman in front of him. 

She'd been bickering for ages over the price of a parcel she was attempting to send and fussing about how many stamps she needed to cover the wedge of letters she had stacked up on the counter. Then picking out every last individual cent in change from her purse, while the people behind her huffed and puffed about their morning plans being ruined by the hold up. 

Arthur was starting to consider drawing his revolver from his hip and forcing his way through the security gates at the side of the counter, just to get what was rightfully his and that of his camp mates. It was fast beginning to seem like the only viable option to escape before the sun set, but thinking it wasn't worth the inevitable police drama that would follow, he took a step forward instead. Politely speaking out to the woman on behalf of everyone standing in the station behind him, hoping to urge her along. 

"Ma'am? Do you need some help?"

"Mind your business, young man!" she snapped. Pulling her purse close to her chest as if Arthur was about to dip his hand clean into it. 

"Well, you been quite a while and some of us would like to get home before supper." There were a few chuckles and murmurs from the line behind him; it seemed apparent he was saying what all the heads lined up had been thinking, but the stubborn old woman simply huffed and abruptly turned back to the counter. Returning to her slow counting out of every last piece of shrapnel in her purse, looking over her shoulder intermittently as if to deliberately antagonise him. 

Arthur sighed and stepped back into line, shrugging his shoulders at the people behind him. "I tried." he muttered, taking his place again and trying to ignore the growing itch in his palm that was encouraging him to pull his gun from the holster and move things along _real_ quick. 

He hooked his thumbs over his gun belt and rolled his neck to ease some of the tension building there. Slowly allowing his head to drop forward and look down at the floor, as his mind started to wander over his plans for what would be left of the day. He didn't have many so his mind began to stray; thinking over all the things that had lead him to be standing there in that moment. 

The Van Der Linde Gang had found themselves in another new town, the third in the past six months. Different views but the same old familiar pressure to make money and encouragement to get into trouble, while trying to avoid being noticed, of course. It was all too easy for him to quickly fall into thoughts of wishing things were better, but there was a certain kind of contentment in knowing that things were currently far from the worst they'd ever been. 

The biggest worry the gang had at that moment was finding a place to spend the winter. Summer had long ended and even though the days were still plenty warm and the grasses were green, the nights were beginning to get colder and frosts were setting in. It wouldn't be long before the shady grove they were presently camped in became encircled by bare trees and battered by howling winds. He guessed they had another month at best before the lush greens of the countryside were turned to oranges and browns, making sleeping under canvas seem less and less appealing. 

The gang were thinking of moving south to out run the cold. Javier knew a few places and faces that could provide shelter and work to keep them well from November to April, but it seemed silly to go so far out of the way, just to have to come back for the richer pickings once the winter relented. 

There was talk of finding a house somewhere, a big abandoned one or maybe a couple of empty cabins somewhere. Even better would be coming across a slipshod landlord who could be charmed by Dutch into letting them pay a deposit, but cowardly enough to never pressure for the rent due. 

They'd followed that formula before, damn near every year Arthur could recall they'd holed up in buildings they'd commandeered or 'stolen', but he hoped for something better this year. Something that would ring in eighteen-ninety-eight with real positivity, starting things on the right note for once. Maybe that would bring them better luck than they'd been having of late. 

Just as it always did in a quiet moment, his mind slipped away from his current standing and drifted to his past, and thoughts of Mary. Wondering what she had planned for the winter, and how prepared her rich husband was for the hard months ahead. He hated how often she came into his mind, as he doubted he ever entered hers. Truth be told he wasn't sure why he took time to wonder about her at all, in all the years they'd been apart he'd seen examples of love and happiness that didn't match with how things had been with her. 

There'd been no acceptance or understanding between them, the way Bessie and Annabelle accepted and understood the way Hosea and Dutch lived. Those two women had helped build their men up, encouraging them, supporting them, especially through their darkest times. Talking out their problems and finding a mutual resolution, rather than pointing fingers and making demands that could not be met. 

There was very little laughter with him and Mary, little positivity or tenderness too. Everything he did was never good enough and eventually he'd stopped trying at all. He only wished the time would come that he'd stop wondering about what could have been, if he'd only kept fighting to please her. Wondering if relief would ever come from the 'what-if's' and 'maybes' that constantly plagued his mind. 

For some reason he could never stop himself thinking about his losses, and how maybe he would never have met Eliza and become a father to Isaac if he'd stuck things out with Mary. Then he wouldn't have a gaping dark hole in his heart, that tried its damnedest to blacken him through and through. He guessed maybe that was why he held onto her so hard, hoping that he could have his chance to make good over again someday. 

As he stood in line with thoughts of what he'd lost swirling in his mind a warmth began resonating from his left hip. He knew instinctively that the sensation wasn't real, it was just some odd reaction to his memories coming out from the very back of his mind. Silently reminding him of the picture he secretly kept there in his satchel; the only one he had of his son. 

He wasn't sure why he carried it with him, it was masochistic to never let himself get too far from the memory of the little boy he'd lost. He tried never to speak of him, as it hurt too much to remember out loud. He rarely ever took the photograph out from the hidden pocket too, still struggling with seeing the boys face unless he was in the mood to hurt. Yet he kept it close for fear of losing it in the chaos of moving camps, and it was too important to him to risk, since he could barely remember the boys face now. 

A deeper part of him believed he only kept it close out of guilt and regret, that he needed to feel the weight of loss at his side to keep as an ever present reminder of how cruel the world could be, and what a bad man he was - what a failure. Something to spur him on to do the horrible things he sometimes had to do, wanting to punish the world for his pain. However, the most prominent part of him knew why he truly kept it close. 

He wanted to be sure he had a way to see the boys face before he died. Determined that unless the end came as a bullet directly to the head, that he'd find the strength in his last breaths to take out the picture and kiss it goodbye one final time. Determined to make sure the child's image was the last thing his eyes ever saw. 

Losing the boy was a pain worse than he'd ever felt, it cut to the bone. No bullet or stab wound came close to the sting of loss that had been branded on his heart. The physical injuries healed and scars faded away but the ones left in the wake of such loss and grief were carved in too deep to ever be forgotten. 

As much as he hated to ruminate on the past, he often found himself regretting so many of his choices and wondering if all his pain could have all been avoided. After all, if he'd tried harder with Mary's father and walked away from the gang he would never have met Eliza in the first place. His broken heart wouldn't have lead him into her bed, and the loss of the life they made together wouldn't never have had to chance to turn him as cold and bitter as he felt he'd become. 

Perhaps if he'd done what Mary asked all those years ago -got real job, saved up for a house somewhere, raised a family and found a legitimate purpose- maybe he could have avoided so much pain. Maybe if he hadn't been so caught up in trying to please Dutch and dance to his tune, he could have got to Eliza and Isaac sooner, been there in time to save them. If he'd just taken a stand and cut some ties, things could have been so different. 

Of course before he could realize what he needed to do, the chance to make good had passed him by. The opportunity to grasp true stability and happiness had been stolen from him. Not once, but twice. Now all he was left constantly trying to outrun himself and the ghosts and demons that followed him mercilessly. 

Thinking of all he'd lost through his own foolishness made a knot of frustration tighten in his shoulders. A constant knot that grew ever tighter whenever that no good Marston was around, throwing away all Arthur wished he could have. 

Hell, he was giving himself a damn ulcer worrying about the woman and child the younger man had up and vanished on. He'd almost been gone six months, not a word from him but they'd heard he was still out there doing all right for himself. It soured Arthur to see how he'd turned his back on his young family, left them wondering and hoping for his return. He could barely stand to see Abigail wringing her hands or hearing little Jack ask after his daddy all the time. 

Arthur's heart broke again every time he heard the small boy wonder if his father was ever coming home. Imagining how his own child had asked after him, and maybe prayed for his immediate return when the end came so brutally for him all those years earlier. 

Arthur's chest ached, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if to push all the thoughts away back into the boxes he kept them locked them in. Shoving everything deep into the shadows of his mind once more. He knew there no point in wishing things were different, it was too late to change the past. All he could focus on now was what he had and what he needed to get. 

Top of the list was locating a good, solid place to hole up for the winter, if only for the boy. Give him a good Christmas too, show him and Abigail that were was happiness to be had despite being used and discarded like an empty can of peaches by John Goddamn Marston! 

A whistle of an arriving train snapped him back into the present, making him aware of the heat in the station and the feeling of his body ceasing up. He groaned to himself, the thought of winter seemed like heaven at that moment; the building was getting stifling. Too many bodies standing around under the fancy glass roof that lay directly beneath the raging midday sun, heating everything up and making him feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

Despite the brief mental escape from his current situation, the woman in front was still getting on Arthur's last nerve. Frustrated by wasting so much time, he felt his mouth open to demand that the she hurry the hell up, but before the words came out she turned around. Looked him up and down with the most disapproving of expressions, huffed at him, muttered something under her breath then shuffled away from the counter. 

"At last! Thought I was gonna die here!" he groaned, moving forward to the counter, wasting not a second in getting straight to business. "I'm here to pick up mail for Eugene Odysseus." 

"One moment." the man behind the bars insisted, moving to the back wall to check for anything owing to Dutch's latest alias. Within seconds he was back and had passed a small pile of letters through. Which Arthur took with a 'thank you' and a curt nod. Hurrying as fast as he could out of the station before he roasted alive with the local towns folk. 

The relief of stepping out onto the train platform and into the cooler air was immeasurable, the September sunshine made the light outside perfect and the crisp autumn-hinting air felt pure in his lungs. He would have stayed a moment to bask in the freedom, if it hadn't been for the flow of people disembarking the train, jostling him along. 

He turned and headed to the way he'd come in almost forty minutes earlier, welcomed over by a joyous bark from his beloved dog, Copper, who'd wandered off a little way from the station door in search of trouble to get into. 

"Good boy!" Arthur smiled waving him over and patting his head. The reddish coloured mutt had been at his side since he was a couple of months old and had given him eight years of companionship and at some points - chaos. 

The dog was spirited, as if he was too clever for his own good. He mostly selective about listening and obeying, but somehow always knew when it was truly important to follow Arthur's rules, and when he could take advantage of his good nature and mess around some. His obedience came intermittently, unlike his wonder-horse, Boadicea. 

Together he and Copper weaved their way through the bustling bodies and trip hazard suitcases, back to where the silver dapple Pinto mare was hitched. As he walked, Arthur stuffed the letters into his satchel and gave the back of his sweaty neck a rub, humming to himself and noticing a hollowness in his stomach that started him off thinking about what Pearson was cooking up for lunch that day. Completely oblivious to the fact that someone was already unhitching his beloved horse from the post. 

It took him a moment to realize the person several feet ahead at the end of the platform, was climbing up onto the back of _his_ horse. It seemed like the oddest thing to witness, as if he wasn't really seeing what he was looking at, not connecting the dots immediately. 

The second his brain caught up to the scene before him, and he realized what was going on his legs instinctively broke into a sprint. Rushing towards the scene of the crime with Copper skipping along with him, barking warnings from his side. 

"HEY!" he yelled out to the figure. Tall and slender built, dressed all in black - duster, pants and boots. A matching wide brimmed hat shielding both the sunshine and the thief's identity. "Hold it right there, you sonuvabitch!"

The figure settled into Arthur's saddle and turned to face him, revealing that the 'son' was not _'son'_ at all. A black vest beneath the duster was padded out tightly with a pair of pert breasts, and the duster had corseting ribbon detailing at the sides to pull in the waist, showing an undeniable feminine shape. He stopped in his tracks, confused by the sight before him. 

It was unexpected to see a woman dressed in such a way, but it wasn't his primary concern. _Hell_ , she could have been naked and he wouldn't have cared, not when she was stealing his ride. 

"That's my horse!" he hollered, vaulting over the guard rail that ran alongside the ramp up to the platform, eager to stop the thief, but he froze in his tracks when the barrel of a handgun rose up to level with his forehead. 

"I just need to borrow it, I'll bring it back soon." 

His hand hovered over his own gun at his right hip, his instinct to draw and shoot without hesitation, but he couldn't shoot a woman. Even one that was dressed as much like a man as he was. "Get the hell down!" he ordered, his demand punctuated by a woof from Copper. 

"Sorry!" the woman rejected, and before Arthur could flinch she'd fired Boadicea up with a 'Yah!' and pulled away from the hitch quickly, instantly spurring her into a keen gallop east. 

As soon as he saw her back, Arthur rushed forward, hand grabbing the handle of his gun, drawing and aiming it at the point between the woman's shoulders as she headed towards the horizon. His finger lingered over the trigger, his chance slipping further and further away, as he warred with himself. 

The devil inside told him to shoot, fire mercilessly into her back -horse theft was punishable by death after all- but his heart wasn't in killing a woman. He wouldn't. There were some things that even he couldn't bring himself to do. 

"Goddamn it!" Arthur yelled as thief and his beloved horse vanished in a cloud of dust. He stuffed his revolver back into its holster and angrily kicked the rickety old water trough besides him. Impacting it so hard that the point of his boot split the wood and sent water gushing out all over his feet and legs. "Jesus Christ!" he hissed, jumping back out the way of the flood he'd created, looking down at the mud and water splashed up all over his lower half. "Fantastic!" 

Copper danced around in front of him, excited for a chase, tail spinning and paws prancing as he jumped from side to side in the puddle, seeming to believe it was all some big game. Unable to stay mad for long when looking at his goofy dog, Arthur's reactive anger reduced to a simmer, and bought the clarity he needed to see his options. 

The way things looked he had two choices. He could trust a thief and sit around waiting for her to come back, or he could start walking. 

He knew he'd be the biggest fool in the state to believe the woman's promise, but the thought of walking two miles back to camp just to face the humiliation of having his horse stolen wasn't appealing either. The ribbing he'd get from Bill, Javier, Sean, Uncle and the Callander boys would be bad enough. He was sure even Dutch would poke fun at the idea of him having his horse stolen by a damn woman. Yet he knew if he didn't do something, and quick, all hopes of getting his girl back would be gone. 

"Shit!" he sighed to himself, shaking his head in frustration. "C'mon boy!" he encouraged and together he and Copper started walking east as fast as they could. Reliant on his anger to fuel his speed, which would get him back to camp fast, to borrow someone's horse and pick up Boadicea's trail. Hoping to somehow get her back before she disappeared out of his life forever, like so many had before her.


	3. Discovery

Arthur mumbled angrily to himself as he marched across the grasslands in the straightest line east as possible, knowing it would be a little quicker to get back if he trekked off the beaten path and over the flat grasslands. He kept replaying the moment over and over in his head, frustrated that he'd been caught on the back foot. Dropped his guard and been walked all over where he least expected it. He was already starting to regret not shooting and he knew he was going to be beating himself up over this for weeks, even longer if he never found Boadicea. 

He'd found that horse when she was barely a yearling, wandering around woodland alone, straying only a few feet from where her dead mother lay. Arthur had watched her for the best part of a day before trying to approach her, fiddling with a peppermint in his pocket that he'd hoped would coax her into trusting him. 

Dutch and Hosea had told him it was crazy trying to wrangle a wild horse, that he could get a decent, full grown, one for fairly little at a nearby stables and save himself a whole heap of work. He was just a kid himself, and taming a horse seemed like a monumental undertaking, but Arthur had set his heart on her. Poor thing had no one, and seemed as lost as he felt inside at times. He couldn't stand to imagine what might become of her if he let her wander, and carefully he set about gaining her trust. Eventually she let him rope her, and lead her back to camp where they began building a bond that had lasted near eighteen years. 

She'd never let him down, never failed him, and he'd be damned if he lost that beautiful horse to a thief. Not when he'd put so much effort into training her, and not when they had an almost spiritual bond. The horse never panicked in water, at gun fire, or thunder, and even snakes didn't seem to bother her. She had complete trust in Arthur, just as he did in her. She knew when to follow and when to stay hidden, with some uncanny ability to understand his commands before he even thought to give them. 

The way his stomach knotted at the very idea of never seeing her again made his pace quicken to a light jog. He had to get back to camp and round up a search party to find her. She'd been the one constant in his life that never caused him any pain. The one who was always there for him, even more so than Copper. 

She was the one he had silent conversations with all over the land, the one he confided in when Dutch was pushing him too hard, or when he'd been questioning his life path and actions too. She'd been by his side through all the bullshit with Mary, and the loss of Issac. She'd been his getaway from his first big bank robbery and the one he'd shared so much experience with. There was no way he was going to let her go, if he had to scour the whole country to find her again he would. 

He felt like such a fool. Chastising himself as he pounded the ground back to camp. Copper trotting besides him, as if the uphill walk was nothing short of an adventure to him. As disobedient as the dog could be at times he was a good tracker and his best hope at picking up Boadicea's trail. The urge to give the command for Copper to seek out her scent was almost irresistible, but without a horse to give chase on he'd never catch up to the thief. 

"We gotta go back to camp first, boy. Get a ride." 

Copper panted and sped up the wag of his tail in response, keeping pace at Arthur's heel and resisting the urge to run off chasing rabbits and small birds as he sometimes would. It was as if the dog could sense just how worried his owner was, and how much he needed his help catching the bandit. 

Arthur's mind went to the thief herself for a moment. The young woman was well dressed, and had clearly just rolled in off the train. She surely had enough money for a stagecoach to wherever she was headed, or to hire a horse for a few hours at least, if her word was to be trusted of course. That's why he knew she was lying and the ache in his heart to see Boadicea grew ever deeper. 

He'd never hurt a woman, at least not physically. He'd broken a few hearts and hurt a lot of feelings in a number of different ways, but killing a woman was a line he would never cross. Yet as he replayed the few moments interaction he'd had with that horse stealing bitch, the urge to make her pay for his distress tempted him into doing something terrible. 

Stealing a man's horse? Who the hell did she think she was? So confident and almost cocky about it too, pointing a gun at him like she could see he wasn't going to shoot her. She had balls, suggesting he wasn't the first person she'd relieved of their horse, or more maybe. He hoped not to see her again when he caught up to Boadicea, afraid of what he might say or do to the person who'd heartlessly stolen the most important and useful thing in his life. 

He tried hard not to think of how long it was taking him to get back to camp as he trod dirt back home, and how far away the thief could have gone on his horse. Wrapped up in imagining a hundred different fates for his girl, none of which were favourable. 

The more he walked, the further camp seemed to get. Every step that propelled him forward felt like the effort of five, he wasn't making ground quick enough and the frustration and midday sun was turning him a deep shade of red. He was so worried he barely felt any sense of relief come over him, when he finally caught sight of the woodland that walled in the camp he'd been calling home for a month or more. 

He paused for a moment removed his hat, wiped away the sweat that had formed, took a deep breath and started jogging for the last length home, as Copper rushed on ahead. Undoubtedly hoping to get some scraps or a bone from Pearson before Arthur got back and kicked off another adventure. 

"Who's there?" Lenny's voice cut through the trees with the click of a gun being cocked. 

"It's me!" Arthur called back, as he hurried through the trees along the path that had been carved through the light undergrowth.

"You alright? You look like you're melting." Lenny gave as he appeared from behind a nearby tree where he'd been hiding on guard duty. 

Arthur swallowed the urge to immediately rant about what had just happened, thinking it best to avoid notifying _everybody_ in camp that he'd just had to walk two miles back home, after being relieved of his mount. "Yeah. It's a hot one, ain't it?" 

"Sure is!" Lenny nodded. "Dutch is looking for ya!" 

Arthur stopped dead and frowned. "He is?" 

He'd spoken to the gang leader before heading down to town and there was nothing of concern going on, other than Pearson running low on fresh meat to throw in the pot and questioning just how much the other camp members were contributing. He assumed perhaps that someone had come back in with a tip off about a new score and that Dutch was already cooking up a plan which he needed Arthur to begin actioning. 

"Yeah, there was a big fuss earlier, while you were gone. Didn't see what it was about, wasn't trouble though."

"Alright!" Arthur nodded interested but not overly concerned, unable yet to know just how wrong the newest member of the gang was. 

He made his excuses and pressed on quickly, heading up a slight incline, through the trees, to the clearing where homebase had been carved out. Catching a whiff of camp fire and hearing the usual chatter mixing with someone hammering metal on wood first, before the camp itself came fully into sight. 

His eyes drifted over the small town of canvas, just under a dozen tents set up randomly around four fires, chickens and horses roaming the edges, people clustered in small groups around the largest tent at the heart of the camp. 

Instantly caught up in thinking it unusual to see so many people standing around Dutch's tent -without him being on his soapbox out front- Arthur almost didn't register the fact that Boadicea hitched underneath a nearby tree, minding her own business. 

She was there as natural and contented as ever, just as he'd find her every morning since they made camp in the grove, and every time he caught guard duty too. Snapping out of wondering about camp life, he did a double take on the horse, momentarily fearing she was just a mirage - his mind's wishful thinking. Yet Copper was standing next to her, his tail going crazier than ever as he sniffed around the horse and repeatedly looked back to Arthur as if to say - _'She's here, idiot!'_

"Oh thank God!" Arthur gasped, realizing what he was seeing was real and rushing over to her as curiosity blossomed inside about how she'd managed to escape and make her way home. 

"Hey girl!" he greeted in wonder. He knew the horse was smart as could be, sometimes scarily so. He recalled past experience, when he'd been bushwacked a few years back, and how in the drama of it all they'd been got separated. Back then she'd managed to get home without him, as if she'd somehow memorized the way. 

The gang had seen her ride back in alone and had quickly realized there was trouble and that Arthur was in danger. They'd headed out looking for him right away, pulling off a daring rescue and tearing him from the clutches of a local adversary. 

Patting the horse enthusiastically, Arthur assumed that the fuss around Dutch's tent was to do with making a quick plan to mount up and get out looking for him. He counted himself lucky to be back in time before his friends all ended up chasing their tails with finding one another. 

Arthur gave the mare a good once over to make sure she wasn't hurt and hadn't been ridden badly by the woman who stole her briefly. "You're a good girl." he cooed, pressing his forehead against her muzzle and enjoying the feel of her warm breath against him for a moment before fishing out a sugar lump from his satchel to give her as reward for returning to him. "Don't go running off with strange women on me again, all right?" 

The pretty silver and white horse gave a snuffle, as if to insist she had no intentions of doing such things, and Arthur smiled. He wondered how she managed to escape, if she'd bucked the thief or slipped her hitch, but the only question that could be answered was how long she'd been back. 

Eager to find out how things had transpired, Arthur felt drawn towards Dutch's tent to calm down the fuss that he assumed was inevitably being made over his disappearance. "I'll be back." he assured Boadicea with another pat, before turning on his heel, whistling for Copper to follow but the dog had already headed straight for the stew pot instead, leaving Arthur to walk into the center of camp alone. 

The camp mates he passed gave a smile and nod here and there, but no one seemed to be making a fuss over him returning, which seemed a little odd since he guessed they'd all be worried about his whereabouts with Boadicea riding in alone. 

The mood of camp seemed strange and registered with him as such, but he stop to didn't ask questions, choosing instead to make a b-line directly for Dutch's tent. Something was clearly going on, had to be. It appeared that no one was out looking for him, since all the familiar faces were present and whispering in their groups. No one was rushing to welcome him either, they seemed to be keeping back from him as if they could sense the anger he'd stormed back to camp with. Everything he was seeing was quickly suggesting that all was not as it initially seemed. 

"Dutch!" he called out as he reached the tent, flipping up the flap and ducking inside, expecting to meet his adoptive father's relieved face. 

"Arthur!" Dutch's deep bass voice greeted, "you're back! Good! I've got someone I want you to meet." 

There was no need for introductions as his head began to swim with questions. Sitting before him, on a folding chair opposite Hosea, was the horse thief who had fuelled his angry two mile march back home. A young woman who had one hell of a lot of explaining to do!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you go. I hope these first three chapters set the scene and teased of what might be to come. I would love to hear any thoughts/feelings, thank you for reading! :)


	4. Only Hope

"YOU!" Arthur gasped, glaring at the woman before him. Now minus her hat, which allowed thick curly black hair to cascade around her face and over her shoulders. Her crystal blue eyes now revealed to him properly, and widening with panic at the very sight of him. 

"What's going on here?" Hosea asked, confused by the sudden standoff. 

"This-" Arthur stopped short, his pointing hand hovering in midair. He wanted to say 'bitch' but thought better of it. " _She_ stole my Goddamn horse." 

"Well, technically I just borrowed her." the young woman insisted. "And she's hitched up out there," she gestured in the general direction she'd left Boadicea. "....No harm done."

"No harm done?" Arthur barked, balling his hand into a fist. "I just had to foot it two miles, up hill, in the midday sun to get back here." 

"You didn't _have to_ , I told ya I'd bring her back to the station. You coulda waited." 

"Coulda waited?" Arthur's anger spat like hot fat and he took a step forward, looking as if he was going to grab her by the throat. She jumped to her feet, not in fear but as if she was ready to square up to him, like she'd seen a dozen more angry men than him before. 

Instinctively Dutch stood up too and injected, stepping forward himself to put a buffer between them before things exploded. "Settle down." he demanded, staring at Arthur. 

He gave a growl, low in his throat still glaring at the mysterious woman; his ocean blue eyes trying not to lower for a better look of the cut of her dark red shirt. A deep V revealed more cleavage than was socially acceptable in most parts, but she didn't seem to care much about societies expectations. Since it was for more unusual to see a woman dressed in fitted pants with a gun belt around her shapely hips. 

"Now, you two seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot." Dutch soothed, gesturing between them both. "Arthur Morgan, this is Miss Ava-Rae Devlin. Daughter of one of Hosea's old friends." 

Arthur looked her up and down, his eyes narrow and unrelenting, trying hard to resist the urge to look favourably upon any part of her. The last name rang a distant bell, but he couldn't place it properly and it didn't seem to fit when he put it against the woman before him. He felt sure he would have recalled someone like her if they'd crossed paths before. 

She obviously had no qualms with standing out and seemed to have spent time cultivating her style. Most everything she wore was black and silver, from the varnish of the revolver and knife at her hip, to the two rings she wore on both her middle fingers. Perhaps more for a potential weapon than a fashion statement, as there was a wild look in her eye that warned she was like a coiled spring. Yet the well dressed, flawless look about her seemed to suggest she was also shy of a good days work and maybe a little heavier in the wallet than most. 

She was pretty though, beautiful even, not that he was trying to notice, yet he couldn't help but consider her face. Pondering for a fleeting second how his pencil would copy it if given half the chance. 

His keen artists eyes noted a small, thin scar nicked the corner of her full bottom lip, another thicker mark followed the line of her jaw from her chin and the ghost of a small deep scratch sat diagonal across her right cheekbone. Curiosity got the better of him, despite the hostility that simmered inside, the sight of it all and knowing of her horse-stealing confidence made him instantly curious about who she really was. He was familiar enough with scarred women of course, most of them beaten by their husbands or an unhappy punter. Yet something about her energy though, told him she'd maybe given back as good as she got. 

"Now, why don't you sit down Arthur." Dutch encouraged bringing Arthur back to the present, gesturing to the seats that had been put out opposite Dutch's bed where he and Hosea sat at either end holding court. "Miss Devlin here has a proposition for us." 

"Really?" Arthur asked grumpily. "Does it involve stealing people's horses?"

She rolled her eyes petulantly and looked away from him, muttering something under her breath that Arthur didn't hear, but it shooed away all the curiosity and added another log to the fire of resentment. The darker side of himself was already beginning to wish he'd put a bullet in her after all. 

"Just sit down." Hosea piped up and Arthur relented. Reaching out for the chair nearest to Rae and pulling it away from her, as close to the edge of the tent as he could get without falling through the opening. Hosea shook his head at the actions of his adoptive son, giving him a moment to settle himself before he spoke again. "Rae, I hate to make you start over, but for the benefit of our blockheaded friend here, could you?" 

Arthur cut Hosea a dirty look and crossed his arms over his broad chest, cocking his head to the side and looking at the books on Dutch's shelves, giving the impression that he couldn't care less what she had to say, but Rae began regardless. "So, I er, I was just telling Hosea and Dutch that I'm here looking for some help with my business...." Arthur opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. "And no, it doesn't involve horses." If Arthur hadn't been so angry, he would have perhaps chuckled at her dodging his attack before he'd launched it, but instead he just kept staring childishly in the opposite direction of her. 

"Rae owns a pretty successful saloon out in Monroe." Hosea explained. "Her father was a very close friend of mine before I ever met Dutch. We ran together for a long time." Something suddenly clicked in Arthur's brain and bought him into the conversation - he knew he'd heard the name before, it was of course from Hosea's many stories from his youth. "He taught me a lot of tricks over the years, I probably wouldn't have been here today without him." Hosea reminisced. "He was one of the lucky ones who actually got out of this life and made a real go of things on the straight and narrow." 

Rae gave a faint chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't say the den of iniquity he created is the 'straight and narrow', but he sure worked hard to make something real."

"I remember when it was just a tent with a couple of chairs in the middle of a field." Hosea recalled. "All the years we ran together, he did nothing but talk about making enough money to open it up. How he was going to build this big saloon with shelter for people like us when we needed it. None of us ever thought he'd actually get out of the life and do it, but he did." 

"Thirty years of hard work saving and another twenty trying to build his dream." Rae added. "But I he was never out of the life proper, not with our clientele." Hosea chuckled and gave an accepting shrug. 

Arthur didn't begrudge anyone's success, but every time he heard a rare story of someone managing to put their criminal past behind them and go legit - it hurt. A reminder of what could have been had he tried a little harder and followed through with what he'd kept promising Mary for so long. Just like that the wounds inside him began to ache again, the slightest reminder of his failures bringing back so much pain, turning him sour and ever more impatient. 

"As much as I appreciate the back-story, do you mind getting to the point of why you're here?" Arthur griped, causing Dutch to throw him a look like he'd seen Abigail give to Jack when he was misbehaving. It made him feel about three inches tall and did little to improve his mood or opinion on the young woman and the air of trouble she was bringing to the gang. 

Rae didn't seem to take offense, she was as eager to get to the point as Arthur. "Well, my dad died a couple of years ago and since then I've been running the place more or less single handed."

"What about your brother, Tommy?" Hosea inquired. 

Rae gave a scoff of laughter, as if her feelings on the subject were barely contained. "Don't ask....I've been trying to hold the place with just a bartender and a cook, everyone else who used to help keep the place running has taken a better offer." 

"A better offer?" Dutch asked, they'd caught up to where Rae had got to before Arthur's arrival. 

"The Deepwater syndicate rode in to town about a year back," instantly Arthur sat up straighter as he and the two other men exchanged worried looks. They'd heard of the organization, made up of little more than street thugs with fat bill stacks. Rolling over little towns and small business from New York to California. 

"That doesn't sound good." Dutch put in. 

Rae shook her head softly. "They started buying up the whole of Well Haven and 'bout forty acres outside of it too, and my daddy's saloon is smack bang in the middle of it, hamperin' their plans for development and dominion. They been tryin' their damnedest to get me to sell up and move on, because apparently my establishment ain't becomin' of the town they want to create. Especially as every town in a day's ride is dry."

Hosea shook his head softly. "Those bastards."

"They made me a great offer for the place, but I couldn't accept it, it's my parents life's work. I ain't gonna give it up for some rich thug to bust it down, build on it and get even richer. Hell, they'd spin in their graves to know I even considered it."

"So let me guess," Dutch gave. "You didn't take the offer, and now they're forcing you out with nothing?"

"Pretty much." Rae nodded. "They're tryin' every move in the book to get me out. There's trouble in there every night now, like there used to be back in the day. Always new faces that no one recognizes startin' it, from the Syndicate I expect." Dutch and Hosea nodded, it seemed to make sense that the boss would send thugs to cause trouble. "And now my deliveries have been mysteriously disappearin' too, I think they've been sabotagin' my supply line, so I'm down to my last few bottles of booze and a crate of beer. I had to start gettin' liquor and food delivered in from across state lines for the past few months 'cause he's blackmailed all the locals into refusin' to do business with me." 

"Jesus." Hosea sighed, clearly unnerved to hear of his old friends business taking such a knock. 

"The guy who runs the show, Albert Landry...he's a real piece a'shit and he's been tryin' to intimidate me real hard too. He knows I won't sell so he's smokin' me out at every corner, forcin' me into kickin' up a vig for protection on top a'everythin' else too." Dutch and Hosea looked at each other and shook their heads, clearly annoyed by what they were hearing from Rae. Arthur found himself now focusing on her more closely as she gave her story, his mind stalled in drawing conclusions one way or another and just listening to her plight. "They bought out all the men I employed for security for a few weeks ago, which means I'm payin' for breakage repairs all the damn time whenever we're open and now I can't get supplies in 'cause I got no one to go help me fetch 'em. I can't drive three wagons on my own and no one wants to help 'cause a'the risk of gettin' hijacked on route. It's hard enough as it is to find anyone willing to work for a woman, with this too, I'm in a real bad situation." 

"Most folk don't take kindly to a woman owning a business, much less a saloon." Dutch said. 

"Yeah, and I've been to hell and back over the last year trying to keep hold of this place." Arthur noted Rae's eyes lost focus as she spoke, her expression darkening, as if painful memories had suddenly shifted into the forefront of her mind. She turned her head away slightly, taking a deep breath to calm herself before turning back to Dutch. "I'm sick of fightin' this rich asshole," she continued. "He's doin' everythin' he can to have me close the place down and I'd rather burn it to the fuckin' ground than give in to the type of person people my parents robbed to build it in the first place." 

Dutch and Hosea exchanged knowing looks, it was clear they both felt for her, but Arthur was still angry beneath his curiosity. Too angry to find much sympathy for the woman's struggles. From what he knew about her he guessed she was giving as good as she got back to whoever was hounding her out of business. She didn't seem like the most agreeable woman on the planet and it was easy to assume from personal experience that she didn't seem afraid of riding roughshod over people herself. 

"My dad put blood, sweat and tears into that place..." Rae continued. "...and I can't just lay down and die, and let some rich shitheel ruin it all for their own greed." Arthur knew straight away that she'd just sang music to Dutch's ears. He did so love screwing over 'the man' and fighting organized greed. 

"I feel like you came to the right place, Miss Devlin." Dutch charmed. 

"I hope so." she gave a soft smile to Dutch and Arthur narrowed his eyes again. 

"So you said you got a brother, right?" Arthur asked accusatorily, wanting to jab some reality into the scene she was painting to seduce Dutch. "Why ain't he helpin' with all this?"

"Because he's a useless shack a'shit!" she said brazenly. "That bastard ran off soon as my momma got sick few years back, took damn near all the money my folks had too, and I ain't see him since." Before Arthur had a chance to mull over what she'd revealed or the impact that must have had on her and her situation, Hosea spoke. 

"Tommy up and left? He was such a good kid." 

Rae gave a scoff of sardonic laughter. "Emphasis on 'was'..." she said to Hosea, dejectedly, but didn't choose to elaborate, instead she turned back to her detractor. "...I didn't decide to come here on a whim, Mr Morgan." she told Arthur firmly. "I don't want to be askin' for help on this, but it's my only choice now." her eyes were stone and resolute holding his gaze for a moment, reminding him of her determination to steal his horse, before she turned back to Dutch and Hosea. "Everyone I know who might be willing to help, is either dead, disappeared or doing time." That information didn't fill Arthur with confidence, it sounded like the woman before him was a jinx on all who knew her. "And I hate to ask, I _really_ do. When I heard you were nearby it took me a while to convince myself to come out here to find you, and I understand if you don't wanna get involved, 'cause believe me, I don't wanna drag anyone else into this mess but my train is about to come off the tracks." Rae implored. 

"We understand." Dutch insisted, clearly already sympathetic and eager to help. 

"I can't pay you until things improve," she warned gently, and instantly Arthur opened his mouth to protest, to cast out the very idea of working for free, but she continued before he could voice his concern. "...but I can feed you, all of you, and keep you floatin' in liquor once my supply is back up and runnin'. Plus the place is on a few acres of land, there's a couple cabins, a stable and a barn y'all can stay in through the winter and there's a house that I'm rattlin' around in too. We got a great water supply, good huntin' and a big kitchen, everythin' y'all could need for the winter, and you're welcome to stay there for as long as you want." Hosea and Dutch exchanged positive looks, and Arthur knew in an instant that they already deemed her to be the answer to their prayers. 

"Plus, I..." she looked around as if to make sure that no one untoward was listening. "I've been looking into these clowns and I think there's an opportunity for you to, er..." she hesitated as if she was picking the right word. She wiggled her fingers and rocked her head softly from side to side trying to speak without saying anything. 

Dutch chuckled into a sly smile. "Relieve them of their wealth?" 

"Exactly." Rae smiled, making Arthur roll his eyes and blow out a light sigh. She had already charmed the camp leader, that much was blatant. "Plus, in the bar I'm always hearin' tips for your kind of work in the local area, seems like there could be some big opportunities out my way if you're lookin' to make money. I'm hopin' this will be as beneficial for you as it will be for me."

"Well, we're always looking to make money." Hosea nodded. 

There was a couple of beats silence while the four heads mulled over what had been put on the table, before Rae spoke again. "Sayin' all this, I could very well get back home and find the place burned to the ground." 

"We'll as long as it's still standing we'll make sure it doesn't come to that." Dutch insisted. 

Rae gave a shy smile again, glancing around the tent but avoiding Arthur's cold eyes and the frustration that was coming off him in waves. "Well, let me give you some time to talk it over. I know it's a big ask." With that she got up from her seat and giving the two older men a smile, but making sure to ignore Arthur's glare, she slipped through the tent flaps and left the three of them alone. 

Silence lingered for a few moments, but Arthur was the first to break it. Unable to contain his distain at what was being suggested. "Dutch! You can't be serious! We don't need to be playin' bodyguard for some down-on-her-luck daddy's girl." 

"Son, this could be our chance to make some real money. If we don't have to spend over winter, think of how much we could save!"

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. "You can't be entertainin' this idea? We don't need to be takin' on other people's problems, we got enough a'our own." he asked between the two men, hoping to get one of them to see sense, but Hosea who was clearly already sold on helping the young woman too. 

"I can't argue with that, my boy, we don't know the extent of what we're getting into, but I do know her father saved my life more than once." Hosea revealed. "He was a good man and he never asked me for anything in return but to make sure his children were safe if he couldn't. She took a big risk coming here to find me and I'm not prepared to turn her away." 

Arthur realized that there was no disputing things with Hosea, he was loyal to a fault despite being a con artist. Visions were already filling his head, of the old man packing up and leaving with Rae alone, no one else agreed to help her. 

"We don't know her from a Goddamned hole in the ground, Dutch!"

"That's not strictly true, I remember her." Dutch revealed. "She couldn't have been much older than Jack when I first met Hosea."

"That's right." The older man nodded. 

"So you knew her parents too?" Arthur frowned, not recalling Dutch sharing stories of them. 

"Briefly. Hosea and I started running together around the time George retired." 

"That's right." Hosea nodded. "We kept in touch from time to time, he even offered me a job working the land with him, when Bessie and I tried to go legit." 

"Huh." Arthur gave, realizing he was overlooking a lot of detail which spelled defeat to his cause. There was no way the two men were going to refuse the daughter of an old friend, but he wasn't going to lay down and die. "Well, I don't like it, I think this is going to be a Goddamned disaster." 

"Arthur, did I teach you nothin'?" Dutch asked, and Arthur frowned confused. "When a beautiful woman asks for your help, the gentlemanly thing to do is assist her in any way you can." 

Arthur groaned. "Oh I see what this is about." He knew for all Dutch's bluster, he was often easily swayed by a pretty face. 

"This is about making money, son." he insisted. "Getting us some place safe for the winter. Somewhere little Jackie can enjoy Christmas out of the cold. And this don't look like nothing we can't help her fix." 

Arthur couldn't argue with that, the thought of where to spend the next few months had been keeping him awake at night, and Rae did seem to be answering their prayers. The Landry Syndicate would be the first organized criminals they'd put out of commission either, the threat they posed to the gang seemed minimal but he couldn't shake the feeling that the whole situation had 'danger' written all over it. 

Outside Dutch's tent, Rae found herself feeling beyond exposed. There was too many eyes on her, all curious as to who she was and what the hell she was doing riding in to camp on Arthur's horse. A group of pretty young women whispered to each other but smiled warmly when they caught her looking over. A scattering of men, or all shapes, sizes and colours glanced her way intermittently but mainly kept about their business, although it was obvious they were as curious as the girls. 

Rae sighed to herself, reached into her satchel and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, as she walked over to a nearby rock. Running a match against it to light her smoke, she took a seat and looked back over the past day and a half. 

It hadn't been easy to come to terms with the idea of asking for help, when she'd heard from an old associate a few weeks earlier that Hosea and the Van Der Linde gang were a couple of states over. She knew her chance to reach them was limited and she fought with herself for days over sending an SOS. Refusing to admit defeat to herself and acknowledge she couldn't manage with the resources she had. She knew asking Hosea was her only shot at clawing her way back and keeping all her father had built in the family. 

She'd started writing a letter, in the hopes of petitioning the older man to help, but she knew her mail had been intercepted too. Someone at the post office was on the Syndicate's payroll and things were going missing to and from. The only option she had was to take a chance and go in person, but that came with many risks. 

She chose their most quiet time and left the saloon at sundown, entrusting it into the hands of her two staff members, saying a prayer that it would still be standing when she returned into the week. She had to sell a couple of silver candlesticks to a local fence to get enough money together for the train fare, knowing it was quicker to go by rail than road. Running low on booze and food had severely impacted on her profits but she refused to dip into what little she had in savings. At least not while she still had pointless ornaments lacking sentimental value to hock with the local criminal underworld. She had to hold on to some cash as best she could, knowing if the rug was finally whipped out from under her she'd have nowhere to go without a backup plan. 

She felt herself an idiot to keep fighting the inevitable dominion the Landry Syndicate would thrust on her, but stubbornness was in her blood. She couldn't stand to imagine the look on her parents face if she backed down and let that horrible little man suck the life's blood out of what was left of their family. 

She almost laughed to think of how desperately she had once wanted to run from that damned saloon. Coming to hate everything about it as a teenager, from the rowdy noise that droned on into the night, to the land that needed working around it to keep supply levels healthy. 

As soon as she turned eighteen she'd taken off running with the first group of shady characters to pass on the road outside. Spending almost six years running with wolves, dodging bullets and bounties before being called home to her mother's sick bed. Seeing how broken her father was had changed everything; suddenly family was the most important thing in the world. 

In a heartbeat she changed from a girl who's primary focus was drinking and taking whatever she wanted, to a woman who was up at first light and working into the night day after day to keep things together and support the ones she loved through their worst times. Just like her parents before her, she'd put all she had into the business and the thought of losing it turned her cold. It was all she had left, her home, her income and her purpose, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't fight to keep it with tooth and nail. Even if that meant having to bruise her ego and go cap in hand to ask for someone else's help. 

She felt so defeated for having to go to Hosea, like she'd failed already to keep things in the family, but she knew her father considered the older man to be a brother. She couldn't stand to think of what she'd do if he turned around and rejected her offer, the very thought made her want to drop her head into her hands, but before she could a reddish coloured dog trotted over to her and sat down at her feet. Looking at her for a bit of affection. 

"Hi!" she smiled softly, recognizing the dog who's tail began to spin with excitement as she reached out to pat him. "I'm glad you're not as grumpy as your master." The dog cocked his head as if he was listening to all she said. 

Even after having convinced herself that going to Hosea was the right thing to do, it seemed as if the answer to her problems wasn't quite so simple. He and Dutch seemed warm and more than willing to help, of course. However, the other guy - Arthur - he was going to be a problem. She could already feel a fight weighing on her hands. 

As she stroked his dog she wondered if perhaps he wouldn't have been so hostile if she hadn't stolen his horse, but how was she to know who he was? It was an unfortunate coincidence that could cost her, if his opinion held any clout over the two other men. 

It was clear he didn't like her, not that she cared much. She could count on one hand the amount of people she knew and actually liked. Sure, he was handsome and the gruff tone of his voice had made a valiant attempt of turning her insides to a quivering mess, but handsome is as handsome does and he was acting like an ass. 

She understood Arthur's concerns, of course. She wouldn't be too keen to help a stranger out either, especially one with a whole heap of trouble at their back, but she thought her offer was a good one. She knew well enough what the gang did, and how they survived, she'd lived a similar life once after all. She'd also heard all sorts through the saloon. Learning about different scores and easy pickings out beyond the state line, things she only wished she could get out and take advantage of. There was a lot of money to be made in her neck of the woods, and she'd rather it went to people she had history with that any of the other unsavoury gangs out roaming the country. 

Giving the dog a good scratch behind the ears, she let her eyes roam around the camp, looking at all the tents and wagons, the tables set out and all the smells of cooking and open fires. It took her back to childhood, running around the woods with her older brother and the other camp kids, playing war games and climbing trees. Content in the gypsy life, having known no different. She guessed that upbringing was responsible for causing her to roam in her late teens, the irresistible call to adventure and ultimately - trouble. Packing up and moving on when things got too deep to surface from. She guessed that was probably what caused her brother to bail when things got real tough too, but now her heart was in her home. All she wanted to do was get back there and patch the holes to stop her ship from sinking. 

It had taken her the best part of a day's travel by train to get there, and she knew it was going to be a hell of a trip back if they agreed to help her. Packing up camp would take hours, and it would be two days ride back at best with the wagons. She was sure the journey alone would sour people to her proposition before they'd even seen what she had to offer. She was confident though, that they'd be happy at the saloon if they agreed to her. 

There was so much land, more than enough to make camp, and actual beds on offer too, with real roofs over them. The hunting was good, and her father had planted much to ensure food was abundant. There was a beautiful mountain-fed river nearby, making access to water and the creature comforts, rarely afforded to those who wandered, easy to come by. 

The place had been specifically chosen by her father because it ticked all the boxes for a safe camp. Far enough outside of town to avoid prying eyes, but close enough to make travel to and from for supplies and work a breeze. It would be nice to have company too, since the saloon had been reduced to barely a skeleton staff she'd found herself getting lonely, and struggling to sleep on quiet nights. Every sound from the saloon and each creak and groan in the house she slept in seemed to spell danger, as she anticipated one night the Syndicate would come for her and force her to relent in much crueller and physical ways than they had tried already. 

She shook the thought and the past memories the concept stirred from her head, and sucked on her cigarette to calm her growing nerves. Clearing her mind and trying to focus on scraping together some semblance of an alternative plan if Hosea turned her away. 

Before she could get far in thinking of an alternative, the flap to Dutch's tent opened up and the guy from the station stepped out. Arthuer looked around for a second until he located her, his eyes met with hers and they held for a moment, a strange exchange that was a warning but also about sizing each other up better in the bright sunshine. Suddenly his expression darkened when he noticed his dog had befriended her. 

"Copper!" he called, punctuating it with a whistle. The dog looked over and then back to Rae, giving an almost apologetic look before getting up and heading over to his master. 

Once Copper was safely back at his heel, Arthur whispered to him. "Don't betray me like that, boy!" The dog gave a sorrowful whine and lay down beside him. 

From several feet away, Rae could see Arthur's lips move but didn't hear, she didn't have to though. She was sure the dog was getting scolded for befriending her. It was obvious she was going to have a battle on her hands with the gruff blue eyed outlaw, however, butting heads with people was what she tended to do best. 

Before she could ponder any further interaction with _grumpy_ , Dutch's tent opened again and he stepped out into the sunshine to stand besides Arthur with Hosea at his heel. "Everyone, gather round and listen up." he boomed, pausing for a moment while everyone obediently dropped what they were doing and gathered close to him. 

Nervously, Rae stood up and slowly moved over, flicking away her cigarette and resisting the urge to nibble at her lip as she silently urged Dutch to put her out of her misery. 

"This here is Rae." he gestured over to where Rae was standing and every head in camp turned to face her. She gave an awkward smile and wave, unsure how else to greet so many people at once. "She needs our help and she's offering us a place to stay for the winter. So, we need to pack this place up and get on the road as quickly as possible." Dutch's commanding way was something to behold. "Everybody get to work." With that the crowd parted and people broke away to their relevant tents and wagons, setting to work right away, breaking down camp ready for their last move before the cold set in. 

Rae headed straight over to Dutch, smiling with relief. "You'll help?" 

"Of course. I'm looking forward to seeing the place your father built." 

"I think you're gonna like it." she smiled warmly. "Thank you, all of you." She glanced around, holding on Arthur for a beat but he barely looked in her direction. 

"Don't mention it." Hosea assured, patting her on the shoulder. 

"Yeah, don't!" Arthur grunted. "....'Cause I ain't on board with this." With that he abruptly walked away, irritated by how everything was happening so damn fast and how this strange woman was walking all over camp so effortlessly. 

"How am I not surprised." Rae muttered as he left, watching him walk away with the reddish dog trotting alongside him, glancing back over his shoulder at her sorrowfully. 

"Don't worry about him." Hosea assured. "He'll come round, he's just mad about the horse thing." 

"He's the best man we've got." Dutch told. "Despite his grumpiness, he is always willing to help." 

Rae sighed, unable to take her eyes away from Arthur as he drifted away deeper into the camp. "I guess we'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who left a comment and/or kudos on the first few chapters. You guys are great, your encouragement is wonderful. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it has you wanting to see more.


	5. Moving On Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who showed love for the first handful of chapters. Bless you guys! 
> 
> This is a slightly shorter update because it's one of those "transitional" chapters that have to be written, but I hope it's still an enjoyable read. One of my biggest beefs with this game was how most of the characters were left to sleep on the cold hard ground (Hosea didn't have his own tent? Like, WTF?) but in my version of events -pre-Blackwater at least- most everyone has access to a proper four walled tent like Dutch and John did. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :)

Arthur tried his best to busy himself with packing up his home, making sure all the important photographs, books and trinkets he owned were wrapped up in a blanket and locked safely in his chest, along with his clothes and boots, just as he always did when they moved on or just before a big heist.  
He knew how quick the gang had to disappear sometimes when their plans and risks finally paid off, and he hated how easy it was to lose things that mattered in the chaos. 

It was foolish for someone who drifted so much to be attached to material objects, but he couldn't help it. The pictures and newspaper cuttings, books and the little flower his mother loved - if it weren't for those things he'd feel like little more than a vagrant. Those items kept him grounded, gave him a sense of home, and a visual marker of the distance he'd come. 

Of course, it had been some kind of miracle for him to keep hold of so many things for so long, especially as a boy living on the streets where it was near impossible to keep much of anything. Most of his camp mates had seen more than their fair share of trinkets left behind, but he was meticulous in how he packed. Not allowing any room for error, having lost things that mattered to the road a time or two before. 

Once he was satisfied his personal effects were safe, he made a start on folding blankets and methodically taking apart his bed, using the familiar monotony of breaking down camp to silence the belligerent thoughts in his head. Physical actions had always kept his brain from overheating with thought, that was why he liked to keep busy as much as he could. The more he did with his hands, the more his back broke under physical strain, the less the cogs in his head turned. 

Last to be dismantled was his tent, the binds that held the large four sided canvas' shape came undone easily and allowed for him to quickly load everything up onto the wagon he'd be sharing with Lenny and Hosea this time round. He'd broken down camp so that many times he could have done it blind folded. It had practically become muscle memory, having spent twenty years doing the same action every couple of months, sometimes sooner. It grew tedious quickly, but he was glad of the distraction, since it helped him do his damnedest to avoid looking in the direction of _her_. 

"Goddamn stupid idea." he mumbled to himself and Copper who sat a couple of feet away, chomping on a nice juicy bone Pearson had saved for him. Offering no comfort, only moaning in delight as he worked his way through his daily treat. "We ain't a Goddamned charity. Takin' on other people's problems. It's dumb. Never ended well before, ain't gonna end well now neither." Arthur complained as he shoved the last of his things into the back of the wagon. 

Oh, he was still furious. That damn woman hijacking his horse and riding straight into the center of his life like a meteor crashing clean out the sky upending everything. A tornado in human form. Her simply being there in camp alone was irritating him, her presence just across the clearing felt like a burning poker hovering at the corner of his eye. Daring him to look in her direction, despite fearing the sight would make his eyes sizzle. 

Masochistically he wanted to watch her, study her behaviour to get a grasp on who she was, and truth be told, it was a battle not to seek her out, to stare and wonder. It would have been so effortless to fall into picking her apart and chewing over all the drama she was surely bringing to his family. Letting himself ruminate on all the ways he should have been doing more to stop the foolishness of following her into God only knew what. 

Other parts of him wanted to study her out of pure curiosity. Wanting to get a feel for who she was under the brash horse-thieve attitude he couldn't imagine ever seeing past. He wanted to check and see just how she was interacting with his people, if she was pulling her weight or just sitting there watching others work. Hoping that would offer an insight into how she was going to handle the gang once they were on her turf and completely committed to doing her bidding. 

Focusing harder on the task at hand, Arthur was soon satisfied that all his things were packed up and locked away safely in the shared wagon. Not wanting to allow himself a moment's pause he went straight into his next task and fished out the horse tack. Rounding the front of the wagon, taking a seat on a haystack to begin untangling the pulling harnesses ready for the journey. His fingers working out the knots in the straps felt almost therapeutic, and his mind began to idle. 

The welcome momentary emptiness of his mind was a curse however, giving a little leeway to his eyes, which instinctively began to wander. Drifting across camp and searching through all the commotion to locate her. To his irritation, he found her quickly and with only slight effort on his part. He instantly felt like kicking himself for letting his defence slip, knowing exactly how his eyes would attached and be unable to pull away from her. 

He noted her duster had been discarded somewhere, and that she'd tied her hair back and rolled her sleeves to the elbow too. She was focused on busily helping Abigail pack up her and Jack's tent by breaking down the bed frames mother and child slept on. From what Arthur could see, it seemed like the two young women were sharing a joke as they worked. Pausing their chatter only for a moment when Rae crouched down to ask Jack something and the little boy ran off on a mission. 

Arthur's jaw tensed, uneasy with how naturally the new face had seemed to slot in to camp life already. Abigail -along with Miss Grimshaw- was usually the last person in camp to warm to new blood. Initially concern about John's wandering affections turned to Mama Bear concern for the protection of her son. It seemed the young mother was grateful for the help Rae offered at least, welcoming of her presence at worst. 

It had only been an few hours since he'd laid eyes on Rae, but already he was getting the feeling he was the only one in camp who was taking issue with the new face. He wondered if he'd have felt differently and been a little less sour had they met in other circumstances. If she'd walked into camp on foot -or ridden in by her own horse- and introduced herself politely, rather than pointing a gun in his face and already having her damn foot in the door before he'd even found out her first name. 

He didn't want to be bitter about things, he knew well enough it was a Goddamned waste of energy but he couldn't help himself. His emotions were still raw over the thought of losing Boadicea and now the young women who'd stolen her seemed to be clean stealing away all the say he had in camp decisions. 

Grumping to himself he mindlessly unknotted the harnesses and loosened the shackles and buckles, annoyed with the way he found he couldn't stop watching her, suspicious and intrigued all at once. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked as if she'd broken down a camp or two before. She seemed to know exactly how to unbind all the straps that held the bed frames together. Wrapping them around the sticks and tying them up tight so nothing got lost in transit. 

Once that was done she jumped effortlessly into helping remove the large canvas box from its multiple supports, folding it up with help, but telling Abigail and Sean -who came to assist- that she could manage to lift and carry the whole thing by herself to the wagon a few feet away. She was stronger than she looked, that was clear, and she seemed unafraid of hard work, which came as a surprise against Arthur's assumptions, but one he took with a grain or two of salt. 

He didn't like her or her offer. He'd rarely been mistaken about his first impressions of a person and he could only see her as a slippery, self serving character, who seemed unafraid of screwing people over, evidence so by her stealing his horse. He didn't like how quickly she'd charmed Dutch or how familiar she seemed with Hosea after so many years. It was all too much, too quick. 

It irked him how she didn't seem concerned with uprooting almost twenty people too; dragging them clean into her drama without proper consultation. Despite the good impression she already looked to be making around camp, he felt like he'd met plenty like her before - those who put on a wonderful show to seduce others into trusting them, like a spider beckoning the fly to its web. 

Those type of people could never maintain the mask long term, he was certain it was only a matter of time until the charming, needy and helpful act slipped, just as soon as she had them all wrapped around her finger, doing her bidding. The whole situation smelled like bad business and he was getting worked up just thinking about the repercussions of accepting her offer and request for help. 

Getting frustrated with the fact there was nothing he could do to stop the runaway train, and the way his eyes had glued themselves to her, Arthur stood up and turned away. Removing himself from eyeshot and focusing on getting set to begrudgingly move camp. He was confident there was no use in fighting the decision Dutch had made, he knew well enough once Dutch had set his mind to a plan there was no budging him. No, it was definitely in his best interests to just keep busying himself and avoiding looking Rae's way again.

There was plenty of work to be done and slack to pick up around camp too, of course. Once he was done with prepping the horse tack, he headed over to help Pearson load up the chuck wagon. Knowing the older man had a nasty habit of prioritising alcohol over actual sustenance. Manual labour mixed with small talk made it much easier to distract himself, allowing him to put his immediate concerns about what was going on to one side for a little while, until he noticed a commotion near the remains of Dutch's tent. 

Against his better judgement, Arthur made his excuses and headed over to the center of the fuss to see what was going on. He was the gangs enforcer, the one everyone turned to for answers when the chips were down, but already it seemed like he was cut out of the decisions being made. A feeling which only served to increase his disapproval of Rae and her offer. 

A small crowd had gathered around the last table that hadn't yet been packed up, near to Dutch's tent which camp used mostly for dinner and poker. A low murmur of conversation grew louder as he gained on the scene and realized what was playing out in front of him. 

"I reckon if we rode hard and cut across country we could make it out to Sanctuary before midnight." Bill said, as Arthur's stepped up the outer circle, shouldering his way in through the gaps between the large male bodies, his keen ears tuning into the conversation, his eyes locking on to what everyone was looking at on the table. 

A plan was forming over a map, and he clearly wasn't needed in the process. "What's goin' on?" he asked indignantly, as he settled in place between Dutch and Lenny. Looking sideways at Rae who was opposite, leaning over the map that was spread open on the table. She side glanced him, holding his gaze for a beat -the tone of her icy blue eyes unreadable- before looking back at the map. 

"Rae needs to get back, so she's gonna ride ahead with Sean, Javier and Bill." Dutch informed. "We'll follow on behind, but it's gonna take at least two days, maybe three with all the wagons."

Arthur gave an irritated scoff. "And you think it's wise to send two of the biggest drunkards in camp on ahead, to a saloon?" he gestured to two of the three men tasked with running point, but it was Sean who took up defence, not Bill. 

"Don't you worry 'bout me, English! I'll be on my best behaviour." the red haired man assured, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

Arthur shook his head softly, gaze shifting between Sean and Rae, the smirk on the young Irishman's face made Arthur question his intentions. "Oh, I'm sure you will." 

"There ain't much to drink right now anyhow," Rae spoke up, avoiding directly addressing Arthur or taking his gaze again. "But I got an order sittin' waiting to be picked up. If we're quick we could probably pick it up on the way back through." 

"You're talking to Sean McGuire, fastest rider in the west!" Sean boasted, making Arthur and the rest of the gang roll their eyes. Arthur couldn't be sure if it was the younger man's poor attempt at flirtation, but the spirit with which he spoke grated on him anyway. 

"Whatever you do, just be careful." Hosea piped up. "At least until we're all there to back you up." 

Arthur felt himself tense, he really didn't like the idea of his friends riding off into unchartered areas and dangers unknown with a strange new face, but he knew it wasn't like they didn't do it regularly. They were always out riding roughshod over the local people, making new connections and holding up stage coaches or knocking over homesteads and illicit businesses. Collecting a wagon full of legitimately purchased booze in the dead of night surely couldn't have been as dangerous as some of the shenanigans they got up to regularly, but still he was concerned. 

New territory, new threats, riding straight in and getting down to business was never a smart move. They needed time to scope things out, get a feel for the location, the people and the politics of the towns they were near too. Running blind and jumping to action never paid off in his experience. 

Before he could voice any further concerns for how fast things were happening, a flurry of activity began. The route was confirmed to Dutch and Hosea, and suddenly the three other men tasked with scouting ahead had said their goodbyes and were headed off with Rae to saddle up in preparation to ride out to her home, and place of business. 

Arthur could do nothing but watch as Javier lead Rae to where the horses roamed; silently hoping that working with her wasn't going to be a disaster for everyone involved, as he feared. 

"I told Javier it was okay to let her ride Boadi-" Hosea was cut of. 

"You what?" Arthur barked. 

Hosea started laughing, entertained by his son's furious look. "My dear boy, you are much too protective of that horse and far too easy to wind up." 

Arthur's mouth set in a hard line and he turned away from his eldest mentor, trying not to notice how a smirk was playing at the corner of Dutch's lips too. He didn't need another chance at guessing how he was the current laughing stock of the camp, and the notion set a low growl grumbling at the base of Arthur's throat. 

The three men stood side by side watching as Javier handed Rae off to Davey who introduced her to one of the spare horses the camp kept for various duties. Bringing over an old saddle that someone had swapped out for an upgrade at some point, while she made the chestnut horse's acquaintance. 

"You really sure about this?" Arthur asked Dutch and Hosea when the moment was right, watching on while Rae attached her loaned saddle, checking the buckles and stirrups properly, before stepping back to put her duster on again and tuck her dark hair up into her hat. 

The long silence from his mentors didn't fill Arthur with confidence, but Dutch was resolute despite his momentary pondering. "I'm sure it's the best plan we've got for winter." 

Arthur couldn't argue with that, so he didn't try. He knew well enough there wasn't much point in trying to convince Dutch against his will, he'd get more enjoyment from smashing his head against a rock. All he could do was be on guard and stay ready for things to blow up. 

"It'll be fine, Arthur." Hosea insisted. "She's a good kid." 

Arthur didn't pass comment, but his focus returned to Rae again, watching as she mounted up and trotted out the horse to meet up with her borrowed entourage. She seemed at complete ease -not a hint of nerves- considering she was about to ride out into open country with three men she'd only just been introduced to. 

Arthur pondered on that for a moment, he knew Sean and Javier were good men, Bill he hadn't ever been quite so certain of, yet Rae didn't have a clue who any of them truly were. That made him think that she was either naive to the risks of a woman riding off with strange men, or she was confident enough to know she could handle whatever they threw at her. He wasn't sure which to hope for, as both options made his head start to swim with unwelcome concerns. 

It seemed obvious she was willing to do whatever it took to get the help her business needed, even if that came at a personal risk to her. He told himself it was for the best that she rode on ahead, no harm would come to her from Dutch's men, of that he was reasonably confident. Yet he couldn't shake the worry that the boys would find trouble on the journey or make trouble for themselves as soon as they arrived at her saloon. Still, he knew his priorities had to be with the camp. 

The women and little Jack needed him alongside them on the journey across country, keeping them safe and helping with the inevitable dramas that would follow in putting up makeshift accommodation as they slowly travelled north-west to the state of Monroe. 

He couldn't remember the last time they'd planned to move so far in one go, without at least making camp for a few weeks along the way. Heading so far across the map, into fresh territory seemed like a monumental undertaking. Moving things so far and so fast would be no simple task, but he knew the gang could make miracles happen when they pulled together. At very least it was a novelty that they were moving under their own steam, and not with the local police force or worse on their tails with flaming torches, as they had been a time or ten in the past. 

With that momentum in mind, and an unacknowledged eagerness to catch up to Rae in his heart, he set to work. The quicker the camp was packed up and on the road, the quicker he could find out just how big of a mistake this whole thing was.

**•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••**

_We're on the move again, second night sleeping by the roadside. Heading out north-west to Monroe, can't say I've ever been out that way before, nor have I wanted to. Can't say I'm eager to get there either, but it's what Dutch thinks is best._

_A daughter of one of Hosea's old friends showed up out of the blue, asking for our help and offering us a place to stay for the winter in return. Not too sure what to make of her as a person or her offer, as the first time I laid eyes on her she took off on my horse. We're not off to the best starts as a result, but I'm not in the business of making many friends and I don't think she is either._

_She rode on ahead with some of the boys a day ago, we're still following behind and it's slow going with the wagons, and certain people needing to stop to relieve themselves every few miles. I dread to think what we're going to find when we reach this saloon that she owns. I expect Sean, Javier and Bill will be out cold drunk, giving our new business associate an excellent representation of our group._

_I do sincerely hope this is a wise thing to be getting involved with, but I sure have my doubts._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'll be back with more, if you want it? :)


	6. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry it's taken me a hell of a time to get this chapter out...as you can see, it's a bit of a beast haha! I do hope that it's an enjoyable, easy read and I thank you all again for the wonderful show of support on the last chapter. This update is a big one, and it's kind of a "staging" chapter, where everything gets set up for the rest of the fic, but I hope I've added in enough intrigue to keep you wanting more. 
> 
> Whenever I'm writing a story where the location is entirely in my head, part of my process is to try and make floorplans and shitty rudimentary maps in MS Paint for directional references and what not. I'm not sure if you guys like that kind of thing accompanying a story, but I thought it might be useful to link them here in case anyone wants to check them out, as I will admit describing landscapes and layouts has never been my strong suit haha! [[Map of Sanctuary Ranch and Building Floorplans]](https://poorlonesomecowboah.tumblr.com/post/182792496054/rudimentary-map-and-floorplans-from-my-fanfic-bad#notes)
> 
> Anyway, enough from me! Please enjoy! :)

It had taken a whole two and a half days for the Van Der Linde gang to make their way from Danbury to Monroe. The hilly terrain along with twisty, narrow, and rutted roads had made travelling hard going for the majority of the journey, and the mood with the gang had soured significantly. A heavy rainstorm accompanied by the usual on-the-road frustrations had everyone on edge, but as a third sunset drew in on the caravan and the sky began to slowly darken, spirits were suddenly lifted. 

Ahead of the eight overlade wagons was a beacon in the night. Inky darkness was slowly draping itself across the land for miles ahead, but in the centre of the gloom, like the last embers of a dying fire, was a glowing warmth that seemed to welcome them home. 

"Looks like we're here." Hosea announced from the first wagon and word quickly passed back to all those who followed, as the caravan travelled on over a bridge that passed above the pretty glacier fed Egelidus river. 

Arthur's eager eyes had already noticed the giant boulder sitting at the other side of the bridge. Lanterns positioned around its base to illuminate the word "Sanctuary", which was painted across it with an arrow pointing ahead, yet at Hosea's word he still he sat up straighter on the bench at the head of the wagon he drove. Almost craning his neck to get the best look he could at what awaited them on down the road a way. 

The land all around seemed to be marked out by fences stretching out in different direction and running back away from the road and up into the shadows of the nearby Tutela mountains, but his attentions were instinctively pulled in to focus on the heart of the landscape. Where stood a large, two story wooden building, false fronted with a pitched roof behind - The Bullet Hole Saloon at Sanctuary Ranch, standing as a lone sentry in the otherwise bare countryside. 

During the journey, Hosea had talked at length of the place as he recalled it but his words hadn't painted such an inviting picture as the windows ablaze with light and warmth did. The saloon itself was positioned at the very forefront of the ranch property, proudly sitting opposite where three state roads met, calling out like a beacon in the night to all those who passed. Shelter for all from weary travellers and fleeing criminals, to merchants and fishermen moving across the heart of America, and of course many locals from the surrounding towns and settlements.

Warm accommodation, good food, better drinks and various types of entertainment were on offer twelve months of the year. With each nights stay, travellers were allowed access to the large stable and shed where they could store their horses and carriages free of charge. While the flat grounds that encompassed the area made for good camping and were open to all who wished to stay, no questions asked and few answered if the law came knocking. 

Squinting his eyes from three carts back, Arthur could just about make out a cluster of buildings behind the saloon in the fading light. A couple of acres of flat pastureland ran behind the inn, melting into miles of woodland that skirted around the foot of the nearby mountains. He guessed it was safe to assume the buildings were the big house and cabins Rae had mentioned in Dutch's tent, and a strange sense of relief passed through him - at least the first of her promises seemed to be true. 

Relaxing a little at the notion, he focused on that which was nearest to him and turned his eyes to the darkening pastures they passed, a few horses grazed happily as moonlight reflected off the nearby river. He couldn't help but wonder who they belonged to -residents or guests- as there were already a few wagons and a dozen or so horses hitched out front of the saloon. Their riders all inside, and well on their way to getting drunk in the middle of the week. 

For the first time since they'd set off that morning, Arthur began to regret turning down Lenny's offer to steer the wagon, wishing for a minute or two to fully survey the area properly without have to divide his attention between it and wagon laden road ahead. Splitting his glances between his task and that which really interested him as the caravan drew nearer to their mysterious destination. 

Even from the distance of a roadside view, it seemed clear that the place was less a simple saloon on a ranch, and more like a small estate. A busy one too if the wagons and horses out front were anything to go by. Arthur found himself starting to understand why Rae had come to Hosea and Dutch for help; it already looked like far too much for one person alone to manage. Especially one who was supposedly under such a pressing threat from the local nefarious fat cat. 

"This is some place, huh?" Lenny commented as the wagons began to slow on their approach. 

"I guess so." Arthur muttered, eyes suddenly catching on movement on the front porch of the saloon, squinting again to make out a familiar face staggering outside, bottle of some booze or another in his hand. "Looks like Sean's already made himself at home." He pointed to the jaunty redhead who was waving at them all frantically, just as Rae appeared in the doorway and hurried over to join him. 

Together they dashed down the front steps and along the row of hitched horses, over to the gates that lead up into the land her father had purchased so many years ago. Rae wasted no time in opening up the gate, so the caravan didn't have to slow down any. Standing on the bottom slat and pushing off the fence post, riding the gate effortlessly as it swung open across the path, welcoming in the gang.

"You find the place okay?" she asked up to Hosea and Dutch in the lead wagon as they pulled in. 

"Just the usual trouble, but we're here now." Dutch said warmly. 

"I'm glad to see you all!" she smiled back as she kept pace with the wagon. "Just keep followin' this path up. It'll take you to the stable, and on up to the main house and cabins. Park anywhere you want, me and Sean will get things warmed up for ya." With that, Rae dashed back cross the path and vaulted over the fence to enlist Sean's help as the convoy headed onwards into the ranch. 

As if she could sense his presence, Rae turned and glanced over her shoulder as Arthur's wagon pulled in. She caught his eyes for a beat, holding his gaze for a second longer than was natural, before looking away without exchanging any emotion, and making a start across the back field to where the gangs new home was waiting, leaving Arthur with a strange sense of disquiet. 

He couldn't help but find his eyes were called to follow her, watching as she sauntered off into the dimly lit grounds she owned. Still suspicious of her and the trouble she was pulling his family into. His curiosity wanted to trail her and Sean all the way along the grounds, keen to weigh her and their dynamic up, but the reigns of the wagon required his full attention, as did Lenny. 

"Eyes on the road, Arthur!" he cried as the carriage began to career off the beaten path towards the fence. Arthur grunted and took back control of the horses swiftly. Locking his attentions back onto following after Dutch in the lead carriage, instead of indulging his curiosity. 

The group pulled up side by side in a well lit area outside of a large stable, and wasted no time in dismounting their vehicles. Gathering into groups and chattering amongst themselves as they reconnected with everyone they'd been apart from in the hours they'd been travelling along bumpy roads. 

Arthur however, climbed down with no sense of haste, letting Copper out from the back of the wagon and giving the dog a pat accompanied by a piece of jerky for behaving himself. Watching as he munched on it for a moment or two, before giving him the all clear to go and snoop about the place to find his paws. 

Feeling no urge to join his freshly energized gang mates, he leant back against the wagon and lit a cigarette. Watching on as slow but surely, lights began to appear in the darkened field opposite, a campfire glowing bright orange at the heart of the area, accompanied further back by one square of warm yellow glow, then another, and another, as life was slowly breathed into the row of cabins. 

The more light that built the better Arthur's view was of the ranch, and Rae too as she hurried from one cabin to the next, repeating the process of lighting the buildings up while the gang gathered what they needed for the first night and promptly made their way across the path towards their new home. 

Arthur kept back, scanning the area as best he could in the dim light, looking over the main house and the three generously sized cabins again, noting how the area was fenced in and securely sectioned off from where the saloon's patrons could roam. 

He eyes swept along to the backdrop of woodland and the steady slope of the mountains that ran up to greet the coming moon, before he turned his attentions back to the saloon. Feeling drawn to the pool of warm light was stretching out as night drew in, the low level of noise, chatter and music, some laughter too could be heard even from such a distance, urging him to venture inside and get a sense for life there. 

It felt strange to consider it so soon, but there was something about the place that already had him feeling safe. The way everything was arranged in front of the mile or so of dense woodland, that ran up the sides of the steep mountains, making one side of the ranch completely inaccessible to anyone who may have been hoping to spy on the goings on. 

It was hard to tell with only sporadic pools of light but the land mass was huge, and accommodation was set back far from the road with a clear line of sight for miles around to the east, south and west. It was easy to believe an outlaw had built the place; it was the perfect location to have the upper hand on any approaching trouble. So much so, he felt he wouldn't have been surprised to learn there were trap doors and escape tunnels or some such rooted under where he stood. 

"Looks like a great place, Mr Morgan!" Pearson cheered, passing by on route into the grounds that they'd be calling home for the coming months. Arms full of blankets and assorted bedding to make the gang comfy for the first night.

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts and swallowed a sigh, trying not to get irritated by how pleased everyone seemed before they'd even properly set foot there. "Let's wait until mornin' to see how true that is." he called after him. Refusing to yet admit that the move was a good idea, despite the strange sense of safety sneaking up on him. 

Rae had certainly been true to her word in what she had to offer, he couldn't deny that. However, he still felt uncertain of just how wise it was to be there. Hosea had talked of the saloon a lot on the ride out, giving Arthur the lowdown on its history as well as its location, and to him it still seemed like Rae and the place itself would be a whole heap of trouble they didn't need.

As perfect as the place seemed for outlaw life, it was too much like civilization for Arthur. Situated a short ride from the town of New Hope and its increasing urban sprawl, the location seemed bound to have its drawbacks. Although he could tell the place would enjoy comfortable winters, sheltered by the mountains from prevailing winds, it seemed likely too that snowfall would top out at a couple of inches and he couldn't imagine temperatures would often drop into the minuses. Of course, none of those predictions made it easier to admit staying there was the right decision, he felt it would take much more than a good line of sight and an easy winter to convince him of that. 

Putting his pondering to one side, Arthur noticed the gang had all gathered outside the big house, and he realized he'd been left behind. Afraid he'd missed out on something important he drew in the last drag of his cigarette and stamped it out into the dirt before eagerly making a start after his people. Following the gentle lamplights that hung on posts both tall and short, marking out both the wide and narrowed paths that had been carved out by wagon wheels and footfall over the years. As he gained on the crowd the sound of Rae's voice became louder, urging him to hurry on over to see what was going on. 

"Abigail?" Rae called from where she stood on the porch steps at the front of the large ranch house. "I've set you and Jack up a room inside." she hooked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate mother and child would be staying inside the main house. "Hosea? Dutch? There are rooms there for you too." The two man smiled and nodded appreciatively, and Arthur felt somewhat relived to know the old man would be out of the cold for the winter. "I'm not sure how everyone else wants to divide up the spaces, but the men have already set up in that cabin...." she pointed off to first of three generous wooden buildings - the one unsurprisingly, nearest to the saloon. "There should be enough room for everyone inside, there are rooms in the saloon too but we try keep those open for payin' guests, but feel free to take anywhere you'd like or you can pitch up tents and wagons around here." she gestured to the large expanse of open space that was framed by the buildings and footpaths like a strange rural courtyard. "Whatever works for y'all is fine by me." 

A ripple of brief affirming chatter filtered through the group as Arthur began to consider his choices for sleeping arrangements. The thought of sharing with the likes of Uncle and Bill were not appealing but he knew he'd be the only one setting up a tent when there were enough roofs for everyone to be under. 

"Slim is the cook here," Rae continued. "He usually has breakfast on from six am every morning and dinner at six every night. He's a bit particular about his cookin' but if anyone wants to chip in he'd appreciate the help I'm sure." All eyes went to Pearson who perked up, but Arthur's eyes lingered on Rae as she hesitated for a moment, he was certain he could see she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. "I should say that I only have two rules here...."

 _'Oh, here we go!'_ Arthur though, his mood souring as the urge to roll his eyes hardened him to her in an instant. He knew the whole thing would come with strings that kept them all trussed up like turkeys. 

"...Clean up after yourselves, and chip in with the chores." Rae said gently, stunting Arthur's hostility before it could root too much deeper. 

"You'll need more rules than that for these reprobates." Mrs Grimshaw chimed in, earning a few chuckles from the gang. "But I run a tight ship, so don't you worry about that." 

Rae accepted with a gracious smile. "...I've got a long list of stuff I could use some help with around here too, so if any of y'all would be willin' to-" Miss Grimshaw cut in again. 

"You give me the list, I'll make sure you get the help you need."

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw." Rae smiled again gently, clearly relieved someone was taking charge so she didn't have to throw her weight around with people she barely knew. "Alright, well, I'll leave y'all to get set up. If you need anythin' at all, let me know. There's hot food and drinks waitin' in the saloon whenever you're ready for them. So, just...make yourselves a home." The crowd instantly lost a few of its members as Uncle, Reverend Swanson and the Callander boys headed straight for the main building to meet up with the other members of the gang, not giving a care about where they slept as long as their bellies got filled with food and booze. 

With their departure a commotion began as everyone set off in various directions to quickly claim a space for themselves. Karen, Tilly and Mary-Beth hurried off to the third cabin, eager to see what comforts awaited them inside. While Pearson, Strauss and Mrs Grimshaw followed on at a slower pace but no less eager to see their new home, while Rae lead in those that would be living inside the big house as Arthur and Sean watched on. 

"So where are you plannin' on sleepin' Morgan, you grumpy 'ald shite?" Sean teased, slapping Arthur on the back. "I bet Rae's bed is nice and comfy."

"Whut?" Arthur growled, irritated by what was being implied. 

"Ah, don't play coy with me. I've seen the way you're lookin' at her!" 

"With contempt!" Arthur dismissed, annoyed to be under such scrutiny. 

"Is that what you English call it?" Sean laughed, nudging the older outlaw with his elbow. Arthur gave a light scowl that only served to encourage Sean's banter. "Reckon she's from good Irish stock that one." 

"Really." Arthur replied flatly. Not particularly interested in the woman's heritage as told by Sean McGuire. 

"Aye! That black hair, and them blue eyes? Name like Devlin? She'd make a man very happy, Morgan."

"If you're so sure about that why don't you take a shot at her."

"What? And step on your toes?" Sean teased again and Arthur's jaw tensed as his eyes narrowed. Fortunately, Sean took the silent warning. "Ah c'mon, ya miserable bastard, let's go get a drink in ya." Arthur wasn't much in the mood to socialize but he did want to catch up with Javier and Bill. To find out what had been going on and what they made of their new location.

He wanted to put Hosea's words against the new sights. Keen to see how the stories and information he'd heard matched up to the place itself. He could already see that the Bullet Hole Saloon was quite a departure from the peace of the surrounding ranch lands. 

He'd been told the place had seen more than its share of laughter and chaos, since its doors first opened over twenty years earlier. Apparently it had developed a reputation for being one of the roughest and rowdiest inn's outside of Thieves Landing, but it was also known to be as welcoming and comfortable as it was raucous. 

Admitting defeat, Arthur relented and followed as Sean lead the way across the grounds and in through one of two doors at the back of the saloon. Encouraging him into a large kitchen full of heat and cooking smells that strangely reminded Arthur of his early childhood. 

Two cookers bordered with neat counter tops and a sink complete with running water. Baskets of vegetables and fresh bread where dotted around the counters, framing the huge feast that was laid out on the large dining table in the middle of the room - it all looked like a dream come true. 

"This here is Slim." Sean announced, walking over to the largest man Arthur had ever seen. A handsome dark skinned gentleman in a white apron, who wore several scars up his arms and around his neck. It was clear he'd been through something terrible, but the big warm smile on his face told of nothing but pure joy. "I'm hoping he'll teach Pearson a thing or two about flavour." 

Arthur gave a soft smile, shaking hands across the dining table. "Good to meet ya!" 

"You too!" Slim beamed. "Help yourself if you're hungry." he gestured to the cooked meats and bread laid out on the kitchen table. Steaming jugs of gravy and fresh biscuits, colourful veg and creamy mashed potatoes that made Arthur's stomach grumble with desire. 

"Hope we're not puttin' ya to too much trouble." 

Slim waved his hand with a warm husky chuckle. "...'Course not! I do love to cook and to tell the truth, it's nice to have more people around to make food for. That girl don't eat enough to keep a damn bird alive." Slim's slight Cajun accent came out in his words and Arthur gave an awkward smile, unsure what to say in response but feeling a tiny bud of concern start to blossom for Rae somewhere near his chest. 

"C'mon!" Sean insisted. "Grab a plate. You won't wanna leave here when you try all this." 

That was exactly what Arthur was afraid of. Luxury made a man soft, and having such nice looking fresh food, warmth and comfort was a luxury rarely afforded to the Van Der Linde gang. He didn't want to seem rude, however, so he followed Sean's lead and picked up a plate and began to take some of what was laid out. 

His mouth watered in anticipation as he loaded up with potatoes, thick pieces of ham and a couple of slices of fresh bread. The obstinate part of his brain told him to turn down the offer; insisted that he was a fool for accepting the hospitality so willingly. A pinch at his back that said he should have put up more of a defence, rejected the welcome of Rae and her people, but three days on the road eating nothing but bland canned meat and lukewarm beans had made him weak. 

Before he could talk himself out of accepting the food he digging in to a plate plied high and had fallen into engaging conversation, with Sean being the chatty sort. He and Slim seemed to take great joy in filling Arthur in on how good the hunting and fishing was in the area and explaining how the place used to farm far more than just the small vegetable patch out back in its glory days. 

Before he'd made a dent in his plate, Sean ushered him on out of the kitchen and through into the heart of the saloon, brightly lit and alive with hearty laughter and piano music. Arthur scoped out the room, noting the many patrons scattered throughout the building, some propping up the bar, most gathered round tables drinking or playing cards. A few nice looking saloon girls coyly touting for business and bring drinks to tables on silver trays. It was almost exact as he'd pictured in his head, though quieter than some of the saloons he'd been in, but he guessed that was due to the fact it was still early in the week. 

On the ride in he'd learned that the place had enjoyed constant and demanding custom since the early days of when it had simply been a small canvas operation selling moonshine to passing travellers, who chose to drink it round the Devlin family's campfire, to the extensive two story wooden structure it stood as then. Yet with the age of outlaws dying a slow painful death, custom -and the chaos that often came with it- had dwindled and calmed slowly over the years. 

According to Hosea, the walls had seen laughter and disaster alike. Housing a fully stocked kitchen, six rooms for rent by the hour or the day and a bath house, it seemed like no easy task to keep the place running to a decent standard. More went on beneath the floorboards too, where an extensive cellar -big enough to store all the booze needed to drown a small settlement- lay, filling a second role as a home to a safe room for high stakes poker games. A room which was utilized at least a couple of times a month when well heeled types from nearby towns ventured in to indulge the vices that were frowned upon in the local neighbourhoods. 

Keen to get a real feel for the place he'd heard so damn much about, Arthur kept pace with Sean through the saloon, spotting his people at the back of the room, to the side of the staircase. Sitting all around the largest table there, they seemed to command the place, as Javier waved them over. Bill was already clearly too drunk to stand safely, and the Callander boys, Uncle and the Reverend were well on their way to joining him. Alternating between throwing back whiskey and stuffing down fist full's of food from the platters laid out across their table. 

Arthur quickened his step, eager to get a decent seat. Preferably with his back to the wall with a clear view of the room. He didn't feel safe in such a lively place, especially with so many of his people putting so much faith in the location. He wanted to be sure he saw trouble coming before it arrived, if it came that night at all. 

As he cut across the room, he found his attention was drawn to a door near the foot of the sweeping staircase. It was slightly ajar, enough so that he could get a glimpse inside, where he caught sight of Rae, who had just sat down at her desk. Pen in one hand, forehead rested on the other as she flicked through ledgers and catalogues, clearly attempting to balance the books and orders as best she could. 

He didn't realize he'd stopped walking and was staring in at her until she looked up and locked eyes with him. Her expression was blank on the surface, just as it had been outside, but even from several feet away he could see the stress behind her eyes. She barely held his gaze for a beat before looking back to her work again, turning her body slightly to block him out and silently dismiss his attentions. 

Arthur shook his head softly and headed on to the group's table. He didn't like how the burdened look of her made him soften so easily. He didn't know her from a hole in the ground and she hadn't earned any slack to be cut, but the kinder part of him wanted to give the benefit out of the doubt, after all she'd clearly been honest about what she had to exchange with the gang but he still couldn't get past how they'd met. 

Still irritation lingered when he thought of how cocky she'd been in stealing his horse and how foolish he still felt for letting her get away with it. He knew his bruised pride was clouding his judgement but he still thought it wise to watch her with some suspicion. At least until he got the full lay of the land and understood who she really was beyond a horse thief and charmer. 

"Sit down, Morgan!" Uncle chirped up, bringing Arthur out of his thoughts and back to the present moment. 

"How many have you had already, old man?"

"I'm just gettin' started!" he cheered, holding up a shot glass filled to the brim with whiskey. 

Arthur gave a faint chuckle as he sat down, unable to believe how quickly his people were making themselves at home or how easily they could all be bought with liquor and promises. He turned to Javier who seemed to be the most sober of those around the table and nodded. "Alright?" he asked. "How's things been?"

"Good, Arthur. Good." he nodded. "This is going to be a great place to spend the winter." 

Arthur couldn't argue with that. "What about her? What's she been like?"

"Interesting." Javier mused. "She works hard to keep this place going. Knows what she wants and how to get it."

Arthur scoffed. "Yeah, I've seen that for myself." 

"I think we'll be happy here, as long as no one causes any trouble and these idiots don't outstay their welcome." he nodded towards Bill and Uncle who were cracking open another bottle of whiskey. 

Arthur gave a soft sigh; it was hard to believe the situation wasn't too good to be true. Bitter experience warned that there had to be a catch somewhere, something that would knock the shine clean off everything, and likely in a most dramatic fashion. He guessed all he could do was hope he was being overly cautious for nothing, but he had never once regretted being on his guard. 

Inside the small office, Rae's head was starting to pound. Looking at dollars and quantities and weights and measures didn't appeal to her at the best of times, it appealed even less knowing how busy the saloon was and how so many new faces needed a proper welcoming, but the accounts never seemed to rest. 

She wasn't a woman who'd ever felt nerves in her teens and early twenties. She flew by the seat of her pants, taking everything head on. Unafraid to push back hard with only her own strength and wits to support her, but since returning to the ranch and taking on the responsibility of the saloon she felt strangely fragile. She hadn't been responsible for anyone but herself before, she had no one to honour and nothing to live up to. She was free to be whoever she wanted, living for the hour she was in and never planning ahead beyond a day, maybe two. The weight of owning all the land that the eye could see for miles around and taking on the family business had crushed that carefree side of her. Now there was so much to think about, so much to do. So many things that were going wrong already, so many things that could go wrong given half the chance. 

She struggled to understand how her parents seemed to have kept the place going so effortlessly for so long. However, she guessed they were made of sterner stuff, or were just good at hiding the stresses from her. She'd heard them fighting sometimes at night as a child, and knew her father got grumpy whenever it came time to do the books, but for the most part running the place had seemed easy. Of course, back then, it probably had been. 

Her father had a staff of over thirty people, mostly reformed outlaws or misfits down on their luck. Hard working folks who were as happy out in the fields, building cabins and other structures, putting up fences as they were laundering the sheets, gathering supplies and checking stock levels. There was a job for everyone at Sanctuary and the place ran like a well oiled machine for years, but in the wake of so many changes in society and the law tides had turned, and with the Landry Syndicate rolling into town support for the ranch had bottomed out. One by one the staff had handed in their notice or spineless just stopped turning up all together. Scared off by the big bad wolf who'd taken up residence in the nearest town, to start blowing down all the houses he could. 

Now, it was just her, Slim and Red - who ran the bar. Outnumbered by patrons every night, sometimes more than ten to one. The locals were relaxed enough to be managed easily, but peace was always on a knife edge with the visiting riffraff and it left her with a constant feeling of anxiety. 

She'd grown used to handling rowdy men, and holding her own alongside some of the worst humanity had to offer but the threat level felt so much higher since the Syndicate had started putting the lean on everyone for miles around. It was getting harder to tell if a fight had broken out over someone losing at poker, or if men planted by Landry had decided to cause trouble and deal out some more damage that she'd struggle to find the money to repair. Every new face bought her anxiety, making her lose sleep most nights when residents were staying on site. 

As much as she hated to admit it, she was growing weary of the daily grind to keep the place running but her heart wouldn't let her give it up. Even though they were operating at a considerable loss, she had to keep the doors open. Feeling that if the heart of Sanctuary stopped beating then her father's memory would fade with it. 

She was confident enough that she could keep things ticking over, at least while there were pointless heirlooms and trinkets about the place that could be sold to a fence to keep paying the bills. There were so many things she needed to buy before the rains and snow came, paint and varnish to winter-proof the buildings, timber to patch up fences and make repairs, equipment for welding pipes and patching up metal work around the place. Bales of hay and grain for the horses and few animals they still kept on the land. Oil and fuel, wood for the oven and fires. Food to sell and food to eat. Cleaning products, laundry powder, soap, replacement sheets for the ones that got ruined by the dirtiest of travellers. Glass and tableware to replace what was regularly broken. So many outgoing costs before it ever came to buying the liquor to serve. The list of needs seemed endless. 

Knowing with winter coming costs would only increase as the land froze over and became fruitless, she blew out a defeated sigh and dropped her head onto the desk. She was exhausted but too wired to sleep, a feeling she'd grown used to since she'd been left in charge of the place. 

Needing solace from the figures that were dancing around in front of her eyes, she let her mind wander to the new faces. Over the past couple of days Sean had made her laugh like few had done in recent years, Javier was kind and helpful and Bill was a grumpy as they came but willing to do his share with some coaxing. Although the time she'd spent with them had been brief, she'd already grown to quite like all of them, but she felt more comfortable as soon as Hosea arrived with the rest of the gang. A familiar face, who's mere presence alone seemed to reassure her. 

Of course having so many new faces there made her anxious too, as she knew it was going to cost money to keep them all through the winter. Extra food and fuel for heating alone would be bad enough, but the money she'd save on labour if they chipped in with the repairs and winter preparations would mean she'd at least break even. She just needed to secure the place well enough to last through the dark months, make certain there was enough cash flowing to keep the bills paid when custom dwindled due to bad weather. 

Dutch had already seemed pleased with his decision, especially when he saw the room he'd been allocated and Hosea was just as warm and fatherly as she remembered him when she was a child. It had been impossible not to take a shine to Abigail, who seemed fierce but kind, and her little boy Jack who was so full of life and hope. 

Everyone seemed nice, just as she'd known groups like them to be before. Miss Grimshaw was eager to help, and even the other older fellers seemed agreeable too. She hadn't spent enough time with the girls or the Callander boys to get the feel for them, but they all seemed kind enough. Likely from years of picking up waifs and strays they'd each learned how to be welcoming and polite to new faces. All but that Arthur feller. 

She'd hoped a few days ride would give him a chance to lighten up and drop his grudge about his horse but the looks he'd been giving her seemed to say the opposite. She couldn't make out if he was staring at her with curiosity or sheer disdain but she guessed she'd find out before long. He didn't seem like the type to keep his opinions to himself if they needed airing. 

What concerned her the most was the way his eyes made her feel. When she'd first met him she'd been too nervous to consider much beyond her immediate actions, but he'd been near each other three times since they'd crossed paths, and already she could differentiate the feel of his eyes from everyone else's. The little fizzle at the base of her spine that his gaze triggered could be decoded as either fear or arousal. She wasn't certain which, and the truth was, she didn't want to be. 

The idea of going out to face everyone was as appealing as pouring lemon juice on broken skin, but she knew it had to be done. She wanted everyone to feel at home and comfortable with approaching her, and the only way to achieve that was dig in and get to know everyone. Besides, knocking back a few drinks and sharing stories with new faces would be far more enjoyable than trying to balance the accounts after all.

She slammed the biggest ledger in front of her shut and stood up. Stretching and rubbing a hand over her face to liven herself up a bit, she made a move out into the noise of the saloon. Things were getting busy as locals continued to pile in to have their fill of the booze that the nearby towns had prohibited. Word had got around that supplies were plentiful again at the Bullet Hole Saloon and Red behind the bar was struggling to keep up with demand. 

"Rae!" Hosea called as he and Dutch strode in from the kitchen, bowls of food in hand and cheerful looks on both their faces. "Come and join everyone, people are eager to get to know you." He gestured over to the table that was already filling up with various members of the Van Der Linde gang. 

"I will in a minute, I've gotta help Abe for a sec." she gave the two men a gentle smile and headed off to the bar. Figuring it was in her best interests to make sure service didn't slip during the rush, despite her desire to welcome the gang properly and relax in the security of having allies around. 

Across the room, Arthur's eyes were naturally drawn towards the approaching two men, who he considered surrogate fathers. He didn't pay much mind to what had been said to Rae in passing, but his eyes curiously followed her path across the saloon floor to where she disappeared into the three deep crowd at the bar. 

"Everything alright?" Hosea greeted the others at the table. 

"Fantastic!" Uncle threw over, washing down a mouthful of free food with a gulp of whiskey, as the other heads nodded and gestured with their cups that everything was just dandy. 

"Relieved to be off the road?" Dutch asked Arthur, as he parked himself down in the chair at the head of the table, so he could keep his back to the wall and eyes on the room too. 

"Yeah, that's somethin' at least." Arthur nodded. 

"So where are you planning on sleeping, Arthur?" Hosea asked from his seat opposite, before putting in a mouthful of food. 

He shrugged, he hadn't had much time to consider it but he knew where he _wasn't_ going to sleep. "Ah, I'll probably set up on the patch outside the cabins or somethin'." 

"Don't be ridiculous." Dutch dismissed. "There's plenty of room in the house, I'm sure Rae will-" Arthur cut him off. 

"I'll be fine, Dutch. I like my own space. so I can come and go." 

"You already planning on taking off?" Hosea frowned. 

"You know my feelings about being here. Feels wrong to be hangin' around acceptin' this hospitality." 

"You sure know how to hold a grudge." Dutch chuckled, glancing at Hosea who tried to stifle a smirk. 

"I know how much Boadicea means to you, but..." Hosea stopped short, silenced by Arthur's indignant glare. 

"Ain't about that." he dismissed, although he was still sour over being horse jacked. "And at the risk of repeatin' myself, I still think it ain't ever wise to be takin' on other people's problems." 

The two older men struggled to argue with that, but after having discussed it, repeatedly -at length- before and during the journey there, they all knew there was no point in rehashing the pros and cons of being where they were. 

"Just look at it as working on a ranch for the winter." Hosea suggested wisely. "You've worked on ranches before."

"A day a'two here or there." Arthur elaborated. "I ain't never been reliant upon anyone's good graces to keep me fed and housed." 

Hosea sighed defeatedly. "I know there's nothing I can say that will make you believe Rae is a decent person, but I do hope you manage to see it for yourself."

"Sooner rather than later." Dutch put in before taking a sip of his cold beer. Arthur simply gave a grunt and went back to eating, annoyed by the way his taste buds were betraying him and his desire to reject any and all warmth shown by the pretty blue eyed danger. 

"So why's this place called the Bullet Hole anyway?" Arthur asked after a long silence, hoping to avoid any more scrutiny over his opinion on the woman they would likely be calling "Boss" before the end of the week. 

"On account of all the trouble it's seen over the years, mostly." Hosea said a little cryptically. "George had to steel line the walls and roof at one point, I believe." 

"Jesus Christ." Arthur groaned, the situation was looking more and more hairy as time went on. 

"From what Rae said it's settled down a lot over recent years. Guess there ain't as many outlaws and rabble rousers as there used to be." Hosea continued. 

"We're a dying breed." Dutch gave, taking out a cigar from his jacket pocket and lighting up. Arthur lowered his eyes thoughtfully, trying his best not to dwell on how times were changing so quickly. Despite all his misgivings about Rae and her offer, it did feel good to be somewhere that their kind was welcomed with open arms. 

Over the course of a few hours more familiar faces wandered in and out of the busy saloon. Most heading into the kitchen behind the bar, some just heading to the baths before turning to their new beds. Others joined in at the main table or settle in at their own corners or took up a game of poker with local drinkers and those just passing through. 

Arthur found it hard to deny the place was nice, and ideal for men of his lifestyle. The gang seemed relaxed too, much more than he'd seen in recent times. Laughing and joking with each other, making plans and feeling positive about the outlook on the coming months. It was a joy to see, but one he hoped didn't come at a cost they couldn't pay. 

"How y'all getting on?" Rae's voice rang out as she appeared at the side of the table, standing between Hosea and Dutch, carrying two new bottles of whiskey. Focusing anywhere but near Arthur, who was deliberately fiddling with his beer bottle to avoid eye contact. 

"Great!" Dutch beamed. "I haven't seen everyone lookin' this happy in a while."

"That's good." Rae smiled, leaning in to place the bottles down on the table. Arthur noticed she'd rolled her sleeves to the elbow and was wearing an apron that was stained with whiskey and beer. "Slim's gonna close up the kitchen in a few, so if anyone wants anything else, now's the time." Before anyone could respond to the offer, the sound of glass breaking shattered the relaxed atmosphere. Angry voices rang out from the other side of the saloon, a small crowd rapidly began to form and tussle with one another over a cause unknown near the bar. "Jesus Christ!" Rae hissed. "Excuse me a minute." 

Arthur eye's snapped up and latched onto her, watching as she moved quickly into the fray. Trying his best to get a look at what the trouble was flaring up over but the crowd thickened out too fast to show the heart of the commotion. More people joined in with the minor scuffle, quickly escalating it into a ripple effect of everyone jumping up to start throwing punches. 

Arthur tensed and instinctively went to get to his feet with Javier and Sean, all ready to join in and settle things down but he hesitated. It wasn't his fight and it wasn't his gangs fight either. He didn't want to be making enemies within a couple of hours of arriving - that'd be breaking a record, even by the Van Der Linde gang's standards. He turned to Bill who was already half way to oblivion with a wall of empty bottles in front of him. 

"This happen a lot?" he asked, gesturing over to the commotion, watching and Javier and Sean muscled their way in to the brawl. 

"Every night so far!" Bill chuckled. "Don't worry, she'll take care of-" his claim was cut off by the barking sound of a gunshot. Sudden silence fell on the saloon and all eyes went to the source of the sound. 

"HEY!" Rae roared, from where she stood on top of the bar, shotgun in her hand, ready to fire again in necessary. "The next cocksucker to raise hands in this here saloon, is gonna get 'emselves fitted with a new hole. Am I makin' myself clear?" with a cocked eyebrow she angrily looked around the startled crowd of faces. "Now everybody, calm the fuck down, and let's have us a nice, civilized time." 

Dutch and Hosea looked at one another and laughed as the tension in the room broke and the riled up crowd began to recede. "Oh she is just like her mama!" Hosea remarked, amused by the lack of fear in the young woman standing on the bar. 

"Ain't she just!" 

"You knew her mama?" Arthur asked Dutch, curious about what had taken place before he met the two older men before him. 

"I met her a couple of times, long before you came along!" he insisted. "She made Miss Grimshaw look like a delicate newborn bunny rabbit."

Dutch and Hosea shared another laugh, which only served to deepen Arthur's curiosity. "She was a remarkable woman. Fearless to the point of recklessness." Hosea added. "I'll never forget the night George met her. We were out riding, on the way home from taking a score, and this slip of a girl came running out of the woods, covered in blood, crying about how bandits had done away with her family. We stepped in, expecting to have a fight on our hands, but it turned out she'd killed about six of the ten men that came to her family's farm herself. We took her in and she weren't shy about getting her hands dirty. George took a shine to her straight away, 'bout six months later they got married. Few years after that he'd saved enough money to buy this place and give up the life for good." 

"See Arthur, it can be done." Dutch said, clearly pleased to have a success story to support the drive to achieve the gangs hopes and dreams. 

"Apparently so." Arthur muttered, struggling to take his eyes off Rae. Watching as she stood guard while everyone went back to their respective tables and sides of the room. Controlling the unruly and demanding crowd with a menacing stare and a silent power that he hadn't seen before. 

For the rest of the night, Arthur kept his head down and his attentions directed anywhere but near her. When she came to join the table after things quietened down, he waited a few minutes before making his excuses and departing the saloon. Eager to avoid his opinions of her being pulled further into the darkness or more into the light, as the gang attempted to coerce him into drinking too much, which he knew would only end in disaster. 

Quietly he set to work putting up his tent in outside the cluster of cabins. Doing his best to work alone in just the light of the nearby camp fire and that of the full moon. Copper silently supervised construction, watching on as the tent erected and Arthur set about padding out of the interior with blankets and rugs that were no longer needed by his fellow camp members, with them all living indoors. 

He wasn't intending on spending much time at Sanctuary, he rarely spent more than a few days at any camp the gang made, and he wasn't going to change how he did things for Rae's benefit. However he knew it felt good to have a base set up ready to come back to, even if he was strangely eager to leave the place. He just didn't want to feel like he owed her anything, and he certainly didn't like the low rumble of continual scrutiny towards his attitude and opinion on being there. No, it was for the best if he just set up his things there and wandered off around the state on his own to seek out what fortune and adventure he could. 

A plan was fixed in his mind, yet all his good intentions to be on his way fell by the wayside, as the couple of days he intended to stay began to edge total closer to a full week. One morning changed into two, three, then four. There was just too much to do in regards to helping his family settle in and it was deceptively easy to feel at home there. Making him forget that the place wasn't just another camp or settlement the gang had taken over entirely. 

Despite a few days passing so easily, he'd barely seen Rae for a minute or two at a time, and only then it had mostly been in passing as she dashed from one task to another. Barely ever glancing his way, but always stopping to talk to the others, sharing a joke, showing them the ropes of the land and buildings. They all seemed to be so at ease around her, which only served to irritate him further. 

Of course, deep down he knew he wasn't entirely annoyed by her, and he was struggling to keep coming up with reasons why he disliked being there. However, he couldn't shake the frustration he felt for the way he found it so difficult to settle in her presence the way the others had managed. 

He couldn't truly understand why he found it so hard to accept her and all she had to offer. There was no reason not to like her, from what he saw she was the perfect host. He'd seen her helping Slim in the kitchen and Red behind the bar, and he'd even witnessed her taking a few minutes to play with little Jack once or twice, and from what he'd been told by the Callander boys, she was one of the hardest workers they'd seen, male or female. He guessed he needed to give it time, let his ego heal from the whole ordeal with Boadicea, then maybe he'd see things clearly. 

However as the first week drew to a close, he found he was no nearer to submitting to the comfort Sanctuary offered. He was grateful of to be reasonably convinced his people were safe but the urge to get away and clear his head was too strong to ignore. He made a decision to cut himself free, and packed up some things with a plan to take a few days out, exploring the area and getting a feel for the dynamic that surrounded their new home. He pondered venturing in to nearby Denver, or perhaps into New Mexico, just to see how the land laid and if there were any opportunities for the gang to flex their unique talents for trouble and misdeeds. 

Plan set in his head, he knew the first and most important part of getting any scouting operation moving was to get a map of the area. He knew there were a couple in the wagons, that they'd used to find the place several days earlier and he headed to where they gangs carriages were parked up outside the stables, finding that Sean was there already, busily gathering up some weapons and supplies. Clearly giving the impression he was on a mission of some kind. 

"What you up to?" Arthur asked, jumping up on the front of the wagon he'd driven in, and searching around for the map he wanted. Trying not to seem too concerned about what trouble the young Irishman was getting himself into this time. 

"Don't you worry yer head, Morgan." he dismissed. 

"C'mon, Sean. Spit it out." 

Sean rolled his eyes petulantly but gave in without a fight. "Met some feller in town this mornin', he mentioned a big old house down the way." he gestured blindly off in the direction of the nearby town, as Arthur jumped down beside him, map in hand. "He's come from the bank to... _what did he call it?_....log assets for seizure....apparently the owners cleared out in a hurry and left a whole bunch of treasures just sittin' there for the takin'. I'm gonna go take a look before they come to clear it out, see if we can't clean up first."

"We need money, Sean. Stolen goods are just a pain in the ass to move."

"I know, but this feller was drunk as a lord, spilled all his beans, said apparently there's a safe in there too somewhere." 

"Hummm..." Arthur mused, scratching his chin in consideration. "Sounds like a lot of hard work."

"I'm not afraid of that, and like I said, don't worry your head." he dismissed. "I got this." 

"I've heard that before." 

"Always complainin', you English! If you're waitin' for an invite you can just ask me outright, it'd save all this." he gestured between the two of them. 

Arthur thought for another moment, picking at the rolled map in his hands. He really didn't want to be getting into trouble so soon, it was far wiser to spend a while feeling out the area first, but when an opportunity presented itself he knew acting fast was always wise. "Have you scoped it out?"

"Of course! Whadda you take me for?" 

"Probably best I don't answer that."

Sean scoffed. "I'm hitting it tonight, before the bank roll in to take what's there. If you wanna come help me drag out the finest silverware and the best the Fitzgerald Brothers have to offer, then meet me there about midnight. It's about three miles south west of here, straight ride past New Hope. Ya can't miss it." 

"I'll think about it. Maybe I'm washin' my hair tonight." Arthur joked and Sean laughed, waving his hand to dismiss him as he gathered up the guns he needed and headed back down to where he was loading up a wagon with sacks and ropes to drag out the safe. 

Mulling over the idea of helping Sean out before taking off on his own, Arthur climbed up on the back of a wagon and sat down, before pulling out his journal from his trusty satchel. From his perch he had a great view of Sanctuary and the urge to sketch what he saw was overwhelming. 

His pencil seemed to work on its own, marking out the large farm house that Rae called home, the three cabins, his tent and the rear of the saloon. Resisting the desire to add in the Reverend and Uncle sitting slumped outside the older men's cabin, and the girls hitching washing to the lines they'd put up between each building. 

He hated to admit how at ease everyone looked, how things had slotted into place alarmingly well in such a short space of time. He hoped with all he had that his apprehension would subside and come to nothing, but there was an invisible cloud looming over the ranch that warned a storm was brewing off in the distance.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

_We made it to Monroe and the ranch-come-saloon set up that this girl owns. They call it Sanctuary, and it sure is that I'll admit. It's sheltered by the mountains and has a line of sight for miles all around. We've got all we could ever need here and it's hard not to feel safe with the way it's all laid out; you can tell an outlaw put the place together._

_The saloon is wild most nights, but folks seem happy here regardless. It's nice to have a roof over their heads and hot food that actually tastes of something for a change. I'm hoping Pearson will learn a thing or two from the cook, Slim. He's a funny feller and I'm surely to get fat eating in his kitchen._

_For some reason however, I cannot bring myself to take a bed in the cabins with the others and I don't much like eating in the kitchen neither. Don't know why? Maybe I'm just being a stubborn fool but I do feel more comfortable in my tent keeping to myself. Don't feel right to accept too much hospitality on account of how I met this girl and all, but winter is getting closer every day and I might have to relent and move inside eventually._

_She's a strange one and I'm keeping my distance from her for the most part, I don't think she likes me and I'm not sure I could ever come to like her either. Something about her makes me uneasy and curious to know what she's really about all at once, but I don't wish to get involved with her problems as I have enough of my own. There are moments when she seems real unsure of herself and other times when she acts like she's more capable than all of our best men put together. That all sets me to wondering about her when I surely wish not to._

_Dutch already loves this place more than he should. Every time I look up I see he's walking around like lord of the manor and the girl seems to tolerate that better than most would. I'm just trying to keep my head down and looking forward to getting back away from civilization again, if you could call this place and the patrons that graces it civilized, of course._

_Oh, and Sean wants me to help him turn over an old homestead nearby. He thinks it's rich pickings but I'm not sure it's worth the risk. However I know he's surely to only get in trouble if he's left to his own devices, so I suppose I will have to put aside my reservations and lend him a hand._


	7. Stolen Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, 
> 
> First of all, I'm sorry for taking so long in getting this chapter out. It's a big one, a lot happens and I wanted to be one hundred percent happy with it before releasing it into the wild. Big thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter, you guys are the best! I do hope you all enjoy this installment as much as the previous ones! :)

Arthur didn't need a watch to know what the time was. Even though he'd only been at Sanctuary Ranch a week he'd already come to learn the ebb and flow of life there. The saloon acted like a town hall clock, the crowds arriving signalled the end of the working day around six in the evening, with things hitting their peak around ten o'clock when the noise and music picked up and maintained until past midnight when folks finally began to peel off back home or fell down passed out at the bar. 

All afternoon Arthur had been waiting for the evening to draw in, his eyes constantly drifting to the saloon to gauge the time as he toyed with the idea of helping Sean out with the homestead robbery he had planned. Then, by the end of dinner, he'd made a decision. It was for the best if he rode out and oversaw the young man's endeavour, if only to ensure things didn't explode catastrophically, as they often did wherever the enthusiastic Irish feller was concerned. 

Despite the pull he felt toward helping Sean, there was still an eagerness inside that had him wanting to leave the ranch and venture out on his own as soon as possible. The calling of the vast open plains and new small towns; a freedom in solitude and anonymity. Things that he knew would provide the clarity he needed to find to get past his misgivings about Rae and the situation he'd found himself in. Yet he told himself it couldn't hurt to stay just one more night, the wildness would wait. If all went well at the homestead, he could leave Sean to offload the stolen goods and set off for Denver at first light content in the knowledge the camp's coffers would maintain in his absence. 

Plan in place, Arthur found Hosea sitting on the back porch of the saloon and explained where he was headed and that he'd be leaving for a while afterwards. The old man was curious to know how things turned out and Arthur insisted he'd fill him in when he returned to collect Copper before hitting the road. 

The rest of the gang were busy enjoying their night in the saloon or were already settled in comfortably for the night in their new solid-walled homes, but he didn't need any farewells. He always tried his best to walk out of camp without making excuses for his departure, fearing he'd be presented with a reason to stay around a little longer. 

He made sure he had his things packed ready to go as soon as the job was done, and left his bedroll and belongings in his tent before heading down to the stable to saddle up quickly. A fat full moon sat low in the night sky providing just the right amount of light to navigate away from the security of the ranch and in the direction Sean had spoken of. Riding out in the direction of New Haven, but picking up a broken path that peeled off the main road to the south-west for a couple of miles. Gradually it lead downhill, skirting around the town by a mile or so, and giving him a decent but distant view of the local hub as he travelled along its outskirts. 

New Hope was lit up like a thousand or more candles, twinkling away in the night. It was hard to see much detail in the dark but even at a distance it was easy to get a sense of just how busy the place was, and how quickly it was developing into a place that would call to wealth and expanding industry. There were building sites scattered through the town, wagons full of bricks ready to start replacing all the wooden structures and putting up new ones, turning the place into a metropolis for the approaching new century. 

Troubled by how things were changing in his world so quickly, he focused on the task at hand and rode in silence for a few miles away from civilization. The cloudless sky offered an abundance of silvery light across the open landscape and it made Arthur uneasy. He knew such a setting was often a major drawback for a robbery; the darker the night better for thieving. Still, he guessed they were unlikely to be seen by any passing townsfolk being so far out of the way and lurking around so late at night. If they were smart and kept to the shadows of the house the moonlight wouldn't expose them and instead would perhaps give them just enough light to see inside without being detected from a distance. Lantern light would be seen for miles around but with a little luck there'd be no eyes to around to notice it if they needed extra light. 

Sure enough, the homestead Sean had marked for invasion was exactly where he said it would be. Arthur approached from the rear, noting as he rounded the land that a large overgrown driveway lead off the estate, down to a narrow road that probably linked to the larger carriage ways beyond his line of sight. A scattering of buildings stood dark against the night, but he could see just how plant life had begun to grow out of control and the ways the weather was starting to decay the structures. 

At the heart of it all stood an imposing grey building, a grand set of steps, with a broken banister leading up to a porch, formed by white stone columns, and a sealed front door. The whole place had been forgotten; boarded up top and bottom just as the outbuildings behind it seemed to be. If it hadn't been for the two horse wagon out front he would have thought the place completely lifeless. 

"Ah! Here he is!" Sean cheered, no concern for the volume of his voice considering the distance from the nearest sign of life back in town. "Glad you could join us, Morgan!"

"Us?" Arthur frowned, climbing down off Boadicea and scanning around in the pale moonlight for a familiar face in the shadows. Before he could question Sean further about who was also in on the act,, the last voice he expected to hear cut through the night. 

"There's no other way, Sean..." Rae called out, completely unaware of Arthur's presence as she appeared from round the far side of the house. Suddenly stopping dead in her tracks when her eyes fell on Arthur, widening in surprise. 

A strange myriad of emotions beginning to circle in her gut like the beginnings of a tornado. Nerves for the very idea of having to be around him on a near one-to-one level, and an alarming sense of attraction to how stupidly handsome and big he looked all dressed in black. His figure etched out by silvery moonlight light, making him look like some kind of spectral Greek God. 

"What's _she_ doin' here?" he growled at Sean as his eyes looked her up and down. She was dressed in dark clothing too, a navy blue blouse tucked into the waist of black jeans. She'd somehow managed to tame her abundance of curly black hair into a slick bun and a black bandana hung around her neck ready for action. Her big blue eyes caught the light at an angle that made them seem to glow through the night, calling out to Arthur in a way that made him itch. 

"Relax!" Sean demanded. "She's here to help." 

Arthur felt his shoulders tensing, he didn't like taking on any kind of job with a new face, it was no offense to Rae personally, despite the animosity that had seeded inside him for her. It was never wise to pull a job with someone who's trustworthiness was yet to be truly determined. 

"I'm stood here, ya know!" Rae hissed, taking up a marching pace and heading over to the pair of them stood by the wagon. 

"Then what are _you_ doin' here?" Arthur snapped at her directly, a little harsher than he truly intended to. "Shouldn't you be back at the saloon." 

"Never you mind what I should be doin'." Rae growled, irritated by Arthur's assumptions and dismissal. 

She'd spent days trying to avoid him and to stop herself wondering about why he kept looking at her so oddly. The last thing she wanted or needed was him hanging around while she was trying to find her feet back in the world of high crime and adventure. He made her uncomfortable, but not in a way she was familiar with. It wasn't the same as when a patron's eyes had fallen into her cleavage, and it certainly wasn't anything like the times she'd been rubbed up against by some random creep who wanted to pull her towards the nearest bedroom. It was a strange sense of disquiet, which in part felt like a sense of excitement but was enrobed in a feeling of scrutiny which made her hackles raise. 

"Well, I'm out." Arthur waved his hands, the indignant side of him refusing to get involved with any of her activity, unlawful or otherwise. "You two wanna get into trouble together and bring this whole agreement crashin' down 'round our ears, you carry on, but I ain't gettin' involved!" He turned to get back on his horse but Sean stepped up to him. 

"Ah don't be like that, ya miserable bastard!" Sean insisted. "You're here now."

"Not for long." he grumped, setting his foot in the stirrup, taking more time than he knew he should have to saddle up. Unconsciously lingering, waiting to be convinced to stay. 

"Rae!" Sean cried. "Will you tell him?"

"Tell him what? We don't need his help. Told ya, I've done this kinda thing before plenty. Besides, more for us if we don't need to cut him in." 

That echoed through Arthur's head like a gunshot. If he was involved, the bigger the cut for the gang would be and the quicker they could get out of there once the winter months passed.

"Ya know what? I think I will stay." he announced, backing off from his horse and turning to Sean again. "If the take is as good as you reckon, there's plenty to go 'round." 

Sean smiled giving a bounce of excitement to get started but Rae wasn't pleased with the news. "Oh ain't it funny how money makes a man forget his morals." she snarked, making Arthur scowl at her. 

"Ah c'mon you two!" Sean insisted. "Ya need to fight, fuck or forget it, pair a'ya!" 

Rae gave a insulted huff and turned away and Arthur's jaw tightened, feeling a strange heat around his neck. He'd be lying to himself to say he hadn't noticed Rae's appeal. The curve of her hips and the way the tailored pants she wore hugged her butt so well. How she always seemed to have her shirt unbuttoned just enough to give a revealing glimpse of cleavage too, and the smell of her perfume that lingered in every room she'd been in. It had all been playing on the back of his mind, but he'd spent too many years ignoring those kind of distractions to start focusing on them now - especially with _her_. The horse thief! 

His thoughts were pulled back to focus on the present as Sean and Rae began to discuss entry into the large house. "Like I was sayin'...before _he_ appeared...." she side eyed Arthur and he almost growled back in response. "...Ain't no other way in from what I can see, back door's boarded up but I reckon the front is locked from inside....If I can get in through that window.." she pointed up to the roof of the house where a crescent window waited. "I'll find a way down and try to let you in somehow, hopefully without breakin' any glass," she hooked her fingers back into her gunbelt and set her weight back on one heel. "If I can't get the door open....well," she shrugged. "I'll just toss things out from the attic window and y'all can catch." 

Sean chuckled. "A'right, do what you can." Rae gave a nod and set off towards the house without casting a second's glance Arthur's way. 

"Why's she goin' in alone?" he asked gruffly, struggling to pull his eyes off her as she strutted off back to towards the house. 

"The only window that ain't boarded up is that tiny one in the attic." he pointed up to the very top of the house. The sky was clear enough to let the moon light up the front of the building, picking up the white woodwork of the sills perfectly. "Last time I tried gettin' through a gap that small I damn near cut myself in half. I ain't as limber as I used to be, Morgan." 

"You never was limber, Sean." Arthur chuckled, irritation abated for a moment allowing him to recall the time Sean got himself dramatically wedged in the small half light window at the rear of a medical clinic they'd once tried to rob. Squealing and wailing like a trapped hog, alerting the whole town to their presence and rending the robbery attempt null and void. 

Despite Arthur's amusement in reminiscing, something still stung at him. He didn't like the situation -that much was certainly- but the strange sensation inside seemed more to be linked with just how impossible to was to pull his damned eyes from Rae. The irritatingly fierce young woman who was skilfully shimmying up the porch columns and pulling herself up onto the first run of roof. She moved effortlessly with the grace of a black cat; slipping through the night like as naturally as a calm breeze. 

"Out of all the people you coulda brung, why'd you pick her?"

"She needs the money, Morgan." Sean revealed. "Costs a lot to keep that place runnin', it's crushin' her, and her old man left a lotta debt behind him." 

Arthur's mood seemed to shift, ever so slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah. From what I heard he did a lot of favours for people, but most of 'em didn't live long enough to pay him back." 

"Huh." Arthur muttered thoughtfully, turning his attentions to the house once again. "Looks like she's done this before."

"Ah! You don't know the half of what she's done before."

Arthur's eyebrows raised, he didn't want to ask but of course, he couldn't stop himself. "What you mean?"

"She's been around, Morgan. Could probably teach you a thing or two."

"I doubt that." 

"From what I've been hearin' she's a real crafty one."

"Oh, that don't come as no surprise." he scoffed bitterly. "She had me blindsided and was off on Bo 'fore I even knew which way was up." 

"Well," Sean sang. "That's 'cause you're old and slow." 

"Watch it." Arthur growled with no heat. 

Sean smirked, but quickly decided it was best to redirect Arthur's attention away from his teasing. "Apparently, her old crew used to call her the she-devil, on account of her last name." 

"Her old crew?"

"Yeah, she used to run with Boone Clayton's gang."

"What?" Arthur cried, turning his head to Sean wide-eyed. Hosea had mentioned that he'd heard she'd gone off the rails a little in her late teens but he'd given no indication she'd run with a gang so notorious. One made up of ex soldiers and fugitives that made the Van Der Linde gang look like choir boys. 

Sean chuckled. "She's a dark horse, Morgan." 

"She's a bad egg." he griped. 

"Ah, come off it. I can see through ya like a window, Morgan. You've taken a shine to her."

"No, I ain't." he growled. 

Sean smirked, deciding not to poke too hard on the subject. Instead he went quite, leaving Arthur to mull over what he'd just said. Yet it didn't take but a minute for him to speak up again. 

"So why'd they call her that?"

Sean laughed softly, and Arthur felt predictable. "Her last name's Devlin, right?" Arthur rolled his eyes to signal he'd already gathered that much and Sean took the hint. "From what I heard, before she took over at Sanctuary, she'd be out there with Boone's boys, charmin' her way into houses and inns, robbing bastards blind left and right. She'd make men part with all their earthly possessions on the promises of a night with her and then leave 'em high and dry. Ride off into the sunset with a bag full o'souls and the boys at her side, never to be seen again."

"Why don't that surprise me." He knew there was something uneasy about her allure, like she was a honey in a glass jar to catch the wasps that appeared at a picnic. 

"She's put all that behind her though." Sean insisted. 

"No one ever puts that kinda thing behind 'em." 

"Ah well, she's alright. You'd like her if you knocked that chip off your shoulder and made an effort with her." 

"Nah, I'm good." 

"You're a stubborn bastard!" 

Arthur didn't pass comment and instead trained his attention onto Rae, who was shimmying along the highest level of the roof to where the small, unbarred, crescent window sat for the taking. Looking at her with a renewed curiosity and unease. 

Rae felt the burn of Arthur's eyes on her even from twenty feet in the air. She'd already grown somewhat used to feeling him looking at her around Sanctuary, but this was something else. His gaze felt hot and distracting. She knew there wasn't room to be preoccupied while she teetered so far above the hard ground, and she tried her best to focus in on the task at hand, refusing to let her mind wander into considering what exactly Arthur was thinking. 

She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached the top window, trying her best not to look down at the ground swirling below her, turning her focus to trying to pry open the access point with her hunting knife. Hoping to gain entry without making too much noise, but it quickly became apparent it couldn't be done - the window was stuck fast. 

"Shit!" she hissed to herself, jiggling the knife again but nothing was budging. Sighing heavily -annoyed with her failings- she sheathed her knife and took out her revolver instead. If there was more time, she could have perhaps popped the seal on the window, but she knew they were like sitting ducks and had to get inside fast. All she could do was hope there wasn't anyone lurking nearby to hear the sound of breaking glass.

Tense and irritated by having to resort to brute force, she used the handle of the gun to smash a small section of the glass, before slipping her hand in and unfastening the stiff latch on the opposite side. She pushed and tugged at the window for a moment or two before it finally gave up the fight and she wasted no time in pushing it back as far as it would go, and then turning behind her to give the thumbs up to the men below. 

"No goin' back now." she whispered to herself, as she unfastened her gunbelt and dropped it through the gap to give her some wiggle room. 

It was going to be a squeeze, so she went legs first. Grabbing onto the guttering at the edge of the roof just above her for purchase as she lifted her legs in, breathing in deeply to shrink herself as best she could, as she snaked her body through the small gap. Dropping into the inky darkness of the dusty attic with an audible 'ooof!'

She gave herself a second to adjust to the lack of light, stepping away from the window to allow some moonlight in, giving her just enough to see a darker square in the center of the floor that indicated the loft hatch. "Alright!" she whispered to herself, picking up her belt and fastening it around her waist again before making a start to undo the hatch and break into the main house. "I hope this is worth it." 

Outside Arthur was getting fidgety. He knew if anyone was close enough to see the wagon parked outside it would arouse suspicion. They had to move quickly, and quietly, but the broken glass was audible from where he stood with Sean, and it seemed clear any attempt to make an entry on the ground floor would be even noisier. 

"I ain't so sure about this, Sean." he said worriedly. "We're standin' out here, practically with a marchin' band tellin' folks what we're doin'. You shoulda parked the wagon in those woods over there." he pointed to a small patch of dense trees behind the house. 

"Don't worry ya head! We'll be in and out. We need the horses to pull the safe out, it'd be more bother to move 'em back and forth. Besides, we're too far out of town for anyone to see anythin'. You need to relax, all this stress ain't good for ya. I know what I'm doin'."

"I hope so." Arthur sighed, looking around nervously. His keen eye honed to square in on the slightest movement from the surrounding area. He half expected lanterns to appear through the trees as the law arrived to take them all in before they'd even got started. It wouldn't be the first time one of Sean's jobs was ended before it even began. 

An eerie silence came over them, a hooting owl and a gentle but wintery breeze blowing through the trees was the only sound. Arthur felt itchy, eager to get out of sight either into the house or hightailing it back to safety. It was taking far too long for Rae to appear again. He began to kick at the dirt beneath his boots, his mind running all the scenarios that could have occurred inside the house to prevent her letting them in. 

_What if she'd fallen through old floorboards and hurt herself? What if there was a crazy person holed up inside who hadn't taken kindly to being disturbed? What if some rabid animal was hiding in there and had set upon her in the darkness? She hadn't even taken a lantern, how could she hope to see in there?_

He didn't know why he was filling up with worries for her, or the urge to protect her in some way, but he was struggling to keep himself from speaking out. Growing eager to insist Sean go after her, finding it more and more difficult to keep biting his tongue when suddenly he heard a bird-like whistle cut through the still night. 

Both men looked around, quickly scanning the house for the source of the sound. "Ah, there she is!" Sean chirped, pointing to the front door that was open just a crack to show lamp light leaking through. Arthur let go of the breath he was holding as Sean hurried round to the back of the wagon, grabbing a lantern and pile of sacks to fill, before hurrying up to the previously sealed door that Rae had managed to get open from the other side. 

Arthur groaned, mostly in frustration. He'd half hoped they had to call the whole thing off, but apparently it was very much on. Concerned for what could go down, he headed to Boadicea and unhooked his own lantern from Boadicea's saddle. Following after the jaunty Irishman who was as eager to get to looting as Arthur was to put miles between him and the empty house. 

"It's a goldmine in here." Rae cheered as the two men approached. "I haven't seen any safe yet but there's silver and gold and jewellery all over the damn place. We're gonna need a bigger wagon." She took one of the sacks from Sean and disappeared into the shadows inside. 

Sean gave a laugh and rubbed his hands together greedily. "Go on Morgan, get inside and give the lady a hand."

"No. I'll keep watch, this is your show, you get in there."

"My eyes and ears are sharper than yours." Sean lied. "I'm a better look out."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What you mean is you're better at leavin' the heavy liftin' to other folk." 

"Aye, that too. Now go on!" he gestured to the open door with his rifle and Arthur groaned. They were wasting time arguing and he knew he and Rae could probably have the job done in half the time Sean would take anyway. He snatched up a sack from the pile Sean had dropped by the door, gave him a lingering glare and headed on inside after Rae. 

He squeezed his broad frame through the gap in the door and moved his lantern around to get a look at the place. Large rooms full of dusty furniture and wallpaper beginning to peel from the walls. Cups, a teapot and an ornate cake stand covered in mould were still sitting on the coffee table in the nearest room, suggesting whoever had lived there had left in a hurry and hadn't returned in at least a couple of years. 

Fancy picture and mirror frames hung on every wall, gold gilded and probably worth a pretty penny but too much to carry and too hard to sell on. They needed smaller items, jewellery, silverware, cash or better. It seemed like rich pickings on the ground floor at least, with five rooms to search if he could see them all from the hallway. 

He heard drawers opening in the kitchen or dining room at the back of the house and decided to leave Rae to cover that end. He headed into what would have been the drawing room, starting on the cabinet at the far side, rooting around to find a pocket watch, carriage clock and a fancy gold fountain pen that he quickly stuffed into his sack. It would all fetch a decent price at the fence, but not enough. They needed to find the safe, and quick, so he had enough time to break into it to spare the horses and his own back. 

He set off moving through the rooms of the ground floor, checking the walls of each room and underneath tables, looking for false fronted drawers or cupboards that would hide a home safe, but repeatedly came up empty. Frustrated, he moved out and worked the hallway, flipping a couple of fitted cupboards open, finding nothing but brooms and mops in one, canned and sacked food in another. 

"I'm startin' upstairs." Rae announced as she swept past him suddenly, carrying a fat sack full of ill gotten gains. Hurrying over to the door to pass it through to Sean before grabbing another empty bag and starting for upstairs in a light jog. 

Arthur didn't pass comment, he let her go and headed instead for the door under the stairs. Popping it open a gust of stale air flew out of the darkness, telling him before he moved his lantern in that there was a staircase down into a cellar that likely held more goods worth lifting. 

Upstairs Rae picked the first bedroom she came to. Raiding the dressing table and the jewellery stands it housed. Shoving dusty bracelets and necklaces into the large sack hand over fist. Whoever had lived in that house had never been short on cash a day in their lives. Why they'd left so fast, she didn't know, no one seemed to. Yet no one apparently had got wind of just how much was left behind for the taking either. 

She turned over nightstands, finding some rings for both fingers and ears, a billfold with a hundred dollars tucked inside, and a few gold coins. She couldn't help wondering what had happened to the people who lived there to up and leave all their worldly possessions. Something terrible must have gone on to make them flee with so little, but she preferred to think maybe they had enough to be able to throw their wealth away. 

Maybe they'd left the midwest for the sunnier climes of California or the hustle and bustle of New York. There were a thousand reasons for why things were as they were, and she guessed the promised safe held the bigger clues. If there was still money in there then the owners really had left under terrible circumstances. 

She was about to make a start on the second bedroom when she heard a creak on the stairs. She turned to see Arthur had appeared on the landing, lantern in one hand and a sorry looking sack in another. "Find anythin'?" she asked, stepping into the next bedroom. 

"Cellar's full of rottin' food and wine, not much else. No safe at least." 

"Sean said he heard there's one here, we just gotta find it." 

"Yeah, well. Sean says a lotta things, not all of 'em true." 

Rae didn't respond, she just set to work relieving the bedroom of whatever gold and silver remained. Arthur gave a silent sigh, frustrated by her demeanour, and headed on to the next room, the largest of the bedrooms with fitted closets and an adjoining wash room. A four poster bed with dusty silk sheets sat at the centre, a large gold clock on each of the nightstands, just ripe for the taking. 

He tossed the sack onto the bed and began opening up the closet space. Shoving rows of dusty gowns and suits out of the way and pushing deeper inside to see if there was a safe hidden behind all the garments where the wooden closet structure met the back wall, but he came up empty again. 

He was about to start on the second closet when he heard an odd noise from outside. Sean's familiar warning sound, a terribly unconvincing impression of a human sized owl. "Shit!" he hissed, turning out his lantern quickly as Rae came rushing through the bedroom door, shoving the darkened lamp she'd picked up on the nearest dresser. 

"Someone's comin'." she hissed. 

"They ain't gonna come in here, still looks all boarded up outside, they wouldn't think to-" Another call from Sean, this time louder, angrier but further away, nearer the opposite side of the house. "Goddamn it. Me and my big mouth." 

Rae looked to the bedroom door in alarm, already she could see a pool of light spreading up the staircase, partially illuminating the landing. A blast of adrenaline took over, and she quickly snatched Arthur's sack out of his hands and shoved it, along with her own, under the large bed. 

"We gotta hide!" she hissed, scanning the room for an escape route but the windows were boarded and there was only one door to exit through. Suddenly she noticed the closet door was still slightly open and without a second's thought for just how viable the hiding place was, she made a tiptoed rush towards it. Moving as fast as she could, snapping at Arthur to come on as she passed him. 

He hesitated foolishly looking left and right for a better way, but before he could latch on to any semblance of a plan, Rae grabbed the collar of his dark leather hunting jacket and pulled him away. Towing him to the closet, and shoving him in through the curtain of hanging clothes without any concern for his welfare. 

Startled by her quick actions and disturbed by the racing of his panicked heart, Arthur's head had turned fuzzy and his body pliant, allowing him to be easily shoved against the back wall of the closet as Rae jostled in alongside him. Reaching out to silently close the doors, before rustling all the clothes back in place in front of them, hoping the garments would keep them well hidden from the new intruders. 

Rae's heart was pounding in her ears, her head spinning with everything that had occurred in the past minute. So much so that it took a few moments for her to realize she was wedged up against Arthur in the darkness. His chest pressed against her shoulders, his body heat enveloping her. His gruff ragged breathing close to her ear, sending a warm, but unwelcome, shiver down her spine as the masculine scent of him began to cut through the musty smell of the old clothes around them. 

Feeling flustered, she tried to take a step forwards but there was no room to manoeuvre. The closet doors spanned the whole wall of the bedroom but inside each one was sectioned off, and lined with shoes at the bottom, making space and movement limited in every direction. Heat swelled through her as his large, firm, body grazed against hers, making her start to sweat. 

Desperate to focus away from what was happening between them she held her breath, trying to listen in to the sounds outside their cage, struggling to focus through the way his body's ghosting touches brushed against her back, making every inch of her skin prickle. 

"Huh-huh-huh-" came softly from behind her, and she frowned in the darkness of the closet, not realising for a moment that the odd sound was coming from Arthur, but suddenly something clicked in her head and her eyes shot open wide - a sneeze. 

"No!" she hissed at him, turning as best she could and blindly grabbing at his face in the dark, catching his nose and pinching closed stopping the sneeze in its tracks, causing a "hurp" noise to escape his throat, his head almost exploding with the muted expulsion of air being forced back inside him by her hands, as the whites of his shocked eyes lit up in the dark. 

She let go of his nose and turned her attentions back to look out through the gaps in the clothes and slats in the closet doors, as he glared angrily at the back of her head. She could practically feel the fire coming off him, as her ass grazed lightly against something firm at the front of his pelvis that she hoped was steel, not flesh. 

Listening closely, she could just about hear voices outside the closet, but nothing coherent enough to reveal what was going on, yet the sound of creaking floorboards moved ever closer as the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. She didn't care to wonder if it was because of the fear of being found, or what effect Arthur was having on her. 

She felt so small standing close to him, his broad shoulders and thick muscular body filling most of the closet space and fitting almost flush against her, bringing a heady mix of arousal into the saturation of panic. Whatever was large, firm, and jabbing into the curve of her butt was making her uneasy and she fidgeted to get some distance from it, but there was nowhere to go. "That better be your gun." she whispered and Arthur returned a gruff grunt of disapproval. 

He tensed and swallowed hard, he hoped it was his gun too, but he couldn't be certain. Something was going on below his waist, a muffled kind of tingling and he didn't like it. He felt like he was on fire, the stifled sneeze, the heat of the enclosed space and the feel of her so close against him. His eyes fighting not to roll back in his head and his throat going dry with two different types of nerves. 

He'd denied his sexual urges for years, knowing they only ever lead him to do stupid things and causing more problems for himself, but the way she was unintentionally fidgeting against him was driving him crazy. Her ass brushing across his crotch, the tops of her shoulder blades faintly grazing his nipples through his shirt. It was all making his heart pound so damn hard in his chest, he was sure she could have felt it. So many urges surfacing from the depths he'd condemned them to; chipping away at the defences he'd built up through years of self enforced celibacy. 

She smelled so good, like spring flowers and the first breath of crisp morning air. She was warm, and the heat of her body mingling with his created an intoxicating cocktail that was only strengthened by the anxiety from the danger they were in. His palms itched to touch her, grab her hips hard and pin her firm against him to stop the almost painful grazing of her butt against his crotch. The fire in his chest and tingling tightness in his abdomen corrupted his thoughts, filling him with dark desires, that bubbled more and more like a pot that was about to spill over. 

"Can't see nobody down here." a stranger's heavily accented voice called from right beside the closet, startling Arthur clean out of the lustful quicksand he was sinking into. "This ain't our business, so I'm gon' get on back, 'fore Nora has my hide." 

"Alright!" another distant voice called back. "I'll be behind ya!" 

The two of them tensed, holding their breath as lantern light began to filter through the slats in the closet doors and back through the veil of clothing in front of them. Both their hands went to their respective revolvers, quietly cocking the hammers and easing the weapons from their holsters. Neither wanted the night to end in bloodshed but they were prepared to do whatever it took to get away clean.

Then suddenly, as quick as it appeared, the light was gone again, and the creaking of the floor grew evermore distant until only silence was left. They stood perfectly still for a minute or two, just listening for any remaining danger, until they couldn't bear to be in such close quarters any longer. 

"They better be gone." Rae said desperately, hesitating on giving up their hiding place no longer, by pushing the clothes apart, popping the door open and escaping. 

The cool air that came rushing for them straight away, clearing Rae's head in an instant and making Arthur realize just how much his face and neck were burning. He skulked out of the closet, rubbing a hand over his face keeping his eyes off her, as she hurried off out of the room and out to the corridor, just as Sean came racing up the stairs. 

"Youse two alright?" he cried out. 

"Sean!" Arthur growled, marching out of the bedroom onto the landing besides Rae. "Why is it always your jobs end up like this?" 

"It's not my fault, English. Them two fellers came out woods and saw the wagon-" Arthur cut in angrily. 

"I told you, didn't I?" 

"A'right, a'right!" Sean waved his hand, watching Rae as she gave Arthur a wide berth to pass him and move back into the bedroom to gather their things. "I'll learn for next time." 

"Next time!" Arthur muttered, beyond annoyed at the awkward situation the younger man's negligence had put him in. 

"You find the safe yet or what?" 

"No I-" 

Rae's voice cut Arthur off. "Found it!" she cried and all eyes went to the bedroom where a low lamp light just managed to reveal a rectangle safe nestled snugly under the four poster bed. 

Sean clapped his hands getting excited to see the content and made a start up the remaining steps. "Oh no!" Arthur denied, putting his arm out to block him at neck level. "You two get outside and keep watch. Make sure we're not disturbed again. I got this." 

Not keen to argue, and eager for the opportunity to put some distance between them, Rae gathered her sack of ill gotten gains, and headed outside with Sean. Leaving Arthur to do his thing and hopefully make the whole night worthwhile. 

The heat that had burned at Arthur's neck in Rae's presence cooled as he began to focus out of the heady sensation she'd caused, putting his full attention on cracking the safe. Ignoring the thoughts and feelings that tugged him this way and that, as he twisted the dial left and right, listening closely for the tiny click that sang of success. 

The urge to relive the few minutes they'd had in the closet together threatened to pull his concentration completely but he fought against ruminating on just how nice it felt to be so close to a woman. How perfectly her slender body had slotted against his bulk and how her soft breathing still echoed in his head, as the ghost of her perfume lingered on his jacket. 

His throat was tight and all his muscles felt tense, but somehow he worked through it. Finding the three correct clicks that had the safe popping open and revealing its wears. Bringing the lantern light forward Arthur smiled to see what waited inside - a pouch of gold nuggets, two gold bars and a couple of small stacks of notes. A quality haul if ever he'd seen one. "Well done, McGuire!" he muttered to himself, stuffing everything into his sack quickly and hurrying out of the room, eager to get to putting plenty of distance between him, the house and Rae too. 

Outside she and Sean were leaning against the wagon, not a care in the world. Smoking a cigarette each and seemingly sharing a joke. Rae had put a black hat on, the brim of which shaded her face from him, irritatingly preventing him judging her mood. 

Sean looked over at him. "Any joy?"

"Nice little haul." Arthur confirmed, as he walked over coolly. 

"Grand!" Sean beamed. 

"Once everythin' is sold off, we should make out with around five hundred a piece, I reckon." As Arthur approached he saw Rae was avoiding looking at him, clearly still feeling as frosty as he was. Unsettled by the strange sensations that had almost got the better of them in the closet. "As long as you make sure you get a good pri-" he suddenly stopped short, from the corner of his eye he saw movement and light, turning just in time to see a figure coming out of behind one of the properties barns twenty or so yards away from them. His panic swept through the trio like tidal wave making land. 

"Hey! What the hell are yo-" the man on horseback shouted to the group. The heavy accent of his voice sound exactly like one of the men who had investigated the house only moments earlier. 

"Shit!" Arthur hissed, frozen to the spot as he tried to calculate if he could drop the heavy bag he was carrying and go for his gun, get a shot off before the guy with his hands free did the same. 

"I'm gettin' the law!" the stranger shouted and quickly turned his horse and took off at a gallop. 

"Aw fuck!" Sean spat, grabbing for his rifle and taking aim but it was too dark and the stranger was too quick. Arthur threw his bag down and made a rush for where he'd left Boadicea, but she was already gone. Startled and afraid, his senses took over and drew his focus to the sound of galloping hooves and the sight of Rae who was already darting through the night after the threat on Bo's back. 

"Goddamnit!" Arthur barked, a ball of fiery anger inflaming his chest. That damn woman was stealing his horse again. If the do-good'er didn't kill her, he would! "Sean! Git in the wagon!" he ordered furiously. 

Rae's heart was hammering in her chest again, this time with the drumming rhythm of Boadicea's hooves as they pounded the ground in pursuit. Her face felt hot beneath the dark bandana she'd pulled up, as her hair fought not to fall from where she'd haphazardly tucked it into her hat. She had to catch that nosey son of a bitch! If he got to town and called in the sheriff, it'd only be a matter of minutes before the Landry Militia were mounting up to find out what trouble was occurring outside the town the Syndicate had taken over. 

She really didn't need the heat from them sniffing around again, especially since word was already getting out about how a new gang of travellers having moved in. If they put two and two together hell would reign down on her property before she had a chance to blink. 

She spurred Boadicea on, silently thanking her for doing her best as they chased the man through the night. The stranger wasn't giving up, desperately gunning for escape. Keeping his head tucked down as he galloped on as fast as his horse could carry him. 

Unfortunately for him, his mount wasn't as fast as Boadicea or as familiar with chasing others, and she and Rae gained ground quickly. Rae's keen eyes quickly calculated the distance between her quarry, and the road back into town, once he cleared the trees up ahead and hit smoother ground she'd lose her advantage and be exposed too. There was no use in shouting, the man just ahead wouldn't stop for that. and a gunshot ran a risk of attracting more attention, but if she waited any longer they'd be coming close enough to town to wake everyone anyway. 

Making a call, she snatched her revolver from its holster and fired a shot into the air blindly. The horse in front instantly panicked, stopping in its tracks and rearing up, sending the rider flying off backwards before galloping off into the night alone. 

Rae pulled hard on Boadicea's reigns, bringing her to a skidding stop a few feet away from the man who was now scrambling to his feet, making a run for it on foot. Rae growled deeply, annoyed at the necessity of a foot chase but quickly dismounted and ran after him. Her long legs allowing for a stride that had her covering ground fast, catching up with the man with ease as he staggered and stumbled over his fear as he ran. 

Powered by adrenaline alone, she seized her chance she charged at him, diving forward to tackle him at the hips, sending them both crashing down into the dirt, her hat flying off, as the wagon carrying Sean and Arthur screeched to a stop a few meters behind them and the two men jumped out. 

"Don't you move!" Rae barked in a voice that was not her own - it was deeper, gruff, almost manly and heavily accented. "I'll put a bullet in the base of your skull right now." she warned, pressing the nose of her gun into the sweet-spot she'd earmarked as cause of death. The man tried weakly to squirm and struggle out from under her as she sat firmly on the small of his back, making her slam her free hand down onto his shoulder to keep him in place. "What's your name?" she warned, her usually light southern accent completely replaced by a heavier drawl and depth of tone that completely disguised her natural cadence. 

Arthur's eyebrows had raised so high they nearly merged into his hairline. If he'd met her for the first time in such as position as the unnamed man across from him, he would have never placed her as female. Whatever she was doing to her voice-box was as creepy as it was impressive. 

"What's your name?" she barked again, deeper and more threatening than before, jabbing the gun hard against the man's skull. 

"Jonah, Jonah Barnes!" the man whimpered. 

"Well, Jonah Barnes." Rae growled, as she grabbed the back of his collar and got to her feet, pulling him up with her and making sure she kept firmly to his back so he couldn't see her face to get a hint that she wasn't male. She glanced over to Arthur and Sean who had already pulled up their bandana's for safety, and she turned the man to face them. "These men here have an excellent eye for faces. They'll find you in any crowd. They'll find your family too. If you so much as dream 'bout breathin' a word of this to anyone, next stop for y'all will be the undertakers. D'you understand?" 

"Yes! Yes!" he cried. "I understand. I won't say a word. I was just on my way home, I didn't see anything, I swear, I won't tell a soul." 

"You better not. We ain't people you wanna trifle with." 

"I know, I know. I won't. I swear. Please let me go." 

She looked to Sean and Arthur who seemed satisfied the guy was warned, and Arthur gave a nod to release him. "Go on, git!" Rae snapped, shoving the man roughly. "You so much as look over your shoulder at us, we'll be the last thing you ever see." 

The man wailed and made a run for it, stumbling over his own feet as he hurried away down to the road, as quickly as his legs would carry him. Not daring to glance backward as he went. Leaving Rae to bend down and pick up her hat, dusting it off before popping it back on her head like nothing had happened. 

Shocked at the scene he'd just witness, Arthur looked Rae up and down. He'd seen women stand their ground, and pull off robberies well enough, but there was an air of confidence that came from Rae which said what she'd just done came as instinctively to her as breathing did. The way she was holding herself, so confident yet causal, showed she wasn't a young woman begrudgingly learning to carry out crimes and dodge bullets out of necessity, she had the instinct to do so flowing in her blood, and a temperament that thrived in the depths of trouble. 

"Alright, let's get outta here before anyone else shows up." Sean insisted once the man was out of visual range. Rae headed over to join the two men, as Arthur whistled for Boadicea. "Well done." Sean cheered. "See, Arthur? What did I tell ya?" Rae glanced to Arthur as his horse arrived besides him, the shock of what he'd seen was dusted away by the reminder that Rae had made the audacious move of stealing his horse once again and it poked at the embers of his anger, rousing a flame. 

He looked directly at her, holding her eyes threateningly. "If you ever take my horse again..." he warned, his voice gruff and menacing. 

Rae scowled and squared up to him, cocking her head one side, holding his glare firmly for a moment showing no weakness. "You'll what?....Kill me?" she provoked. Arthur's eyes narrowed in warning, trying his best to intimidate her right back, but she gave nothing but a sardonic chuckle. "You'll have to think of a better threat than that, Mr Morgan." 

Caught in the moment, Arthur held her stare sternly, blue eyes locked onto one enough, just long enough for him to see something in her that scared him. It wasn't any kind venom or bitterness towards him as her tone had him expecting. It wasn't even arrogance for her own skills or pride in her actions, it was simply emptiness looking back at him. 

The same void look that people got when they felt they had nothing left to lose and no regard for their own wellbeing as a result. The look of a person who had shut down inside. Someone who'd seen hell and walked right on through it but left their soul behind in the fire. The very same look that often held in his eyes at his lowest moments, and whenever he caught a glimpse of himself and his sins in the mirror. 

"Will youse two stop eye fuckin' each other." Sean interjected, as fat raindrops began to land all around them. 

Rae blinked and instantly drew the shades across the window to her soul. Cold, unreadable, blue looked back at him again but revealed no more. A myriad of emotions he couldn't label began to swell through him and he stepped away, turning from her abruptly and mounting Boadicea. 

"You need to ditch the wagon, it'll be easier to track if anyone comes lookin'. The rain'll cover up the rest of the tracks if we get movin'." Arthur barked, irritated by the way his feelings about her had been shaken at their foundations. 

Rae and Sean didn't stand on ceremony, eager to get out of the rain and back to the safety and warmth of Sanctuary. Without another word they fired up the horses and headed back in the direction of safety. 

The atmosphere was tense, and Rae only spoke to direct them out to a section of woodland that they could hide the wagon in and take off on the horses. The undergrowth was dense and would disguise their exiting tracks to make certain they got away clean. 

Despite the urge to question her on everything, Arthur didn't argue it, knowing she knew the area best and was clearly familiar in how to escape a job. He could barely bring himself to look at her either, hating how conflicted he felt at the very sight of her. 

With the job complete, they split off and took three different routes back to sanctuary, so as not to attract attention. Each winding round a little out of the way to pick up one of the busy state roads where their horses hoof prints would be lost for good. 

The ride back alone gave both Arthur and Rae some time alone to mull over what had happened, but they were both too anxious about getting somewhere safe to think too hard. Instead they rode fast, keeping thoughts from settling in their heads. Getting back to Sanctuary and reconvening with Sean outside the stable just as the rain began to batter down hard in icy sheets. 

They ignored one another completely as they set their horses to rest and stashed the ill gotten gains behind a mountain of hay bales. Sean was the only one that spoke, chattering away as Rae and Arthur pretended like the other didn't exist, parting ways once everything was secure. Arthur headed off for the solitude of his tent, while Sean and Rae made a dash for the saloon to make themselves an alibi for the night. 

Alone with only a sleeping Copper for company, Arthur took his boots off and moved the bed roll he'd packed up to leave off his bed and laid down. All his intentions to depart the ranch had left him and he wasn't sure why. He could have been on his way, riding through the night or the cold rain didn't bother him and he wasn't tired at all, at least not mentally. Yet the urge to leave, that had plagued him since they arrived had disappeared. Replaced with a strange sensation in his gut that had his brain running a hundred miles an hour, distracting him well from the low level pain his back gave off, which was becoming all too familiar with after a long day of work and riding. 

As the rain pelted down on his tent, Arthur tried his utmost not to acknowledge the flashing images of Rae's empty eyes that danced through his mind, and instead he thought back to all that had happened in the past week for his family. Leaving Danbury so quick and the difficult journey to Monroe. The awkwardness he felt against everyone's else excitement for their new home and adventures, the irritation at accepting the offer _she_ had made them. 

His thoughts were quickly pulled back to how he still burnt with anger over the way she'd just helped herself to Boadicea the first time, and the second seemed to have refreshed his bitterness. He tensed just thinking of how she rode off on her back like she was her own horse without a seconds consideration to ask. Of course, he knew well enough that there hadn't been time to ask, and that her quick thinking that night had helped stop the situation getting out of hand, but he was still sour about it. He didn't like anyone who took liberties so boldly, especially with something that meant so much to him. 

Truth was, the irritation he felt over her 'borrowing' Bo didn't measure up against the concern he felt inside for the look he'd caught in her eye when he'd threatened her. He'd never hurt a woman, at least not intentionally, no matter how angry he got, but she didn't know that. All she knew was that he was an outlaw, a bad man through and through. She should have been afraid of him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to be or not. The only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't like what he'd seen in her eyes. 

How clearly he'd connected with the level of emptiness he saw inside her. He couldn't understand where it came from, since she seemed to have so much. A big fancy home, friends beyond the couple of staff members, he assumed. A purpose, a secure income, a life worth living. Even though he knew she was burdened to the point of breaking by maintaining the ranch, he felt he should have seen in her some level of attachment to the world, or at least to someone in it. Not just the lonely drift he felt himself lost in at times too, whenever he doubted his worth and his place in the world. 

He scoffed to himself softly, he didn't know why he was taking such an issue with the look of emptiness in Rae, he'd seen it in his own eyes a million times, yet he had much to live for. So many people were relying on him, he had tasks to do, goals to achieve, jobs to plan, food to hunt for. He was never short of something to do, Dutch and the gang made certain of it. He had a home, a family too, with the rag tag bunch of misfits he rode with, he'd come a long way from being a destitute kid on the streets. Angry and fighting everyone, friend or foe, but he still felt lost and ready to die at the drop of a hat. He still woke some mornings wondering if he would have been better off not waking at all. 

He didn't understand why completely, although he guessed the feeling was fuelled by guilt that was rotting him from the inside out like a blight. He wondered for a moment if Rae had done something that caused her to carry a burden of regret that had hardened her to stone inside too. 

It was possible, he guessed. All he really knew about her was that she'd had a good family, and at some point had ventured into a life of crime, looking for excitement and probably rebelling against her upbringing, just as many he knew had tried. 

He didn't know enough about her to consider what secrets she held, and he didn't want to wonder. Afraid to think of what horrors she'd seen with Boone's gang and what ill deeds she'd done with them or even just by herself. Fearing knowing that much about her would either harden him to her completely or soften him in ways that would be dangerous to his own sanity. Most of all, he knew it was no use wondering about her, a complete waste of time, because she clearly didn't like him and he didn't want to like her either. 

His mind slipped back to their time in the closet together and he cringed. He loved women, he really did. A little too much when he'd allowed himself in his youth. When he came of age he'd bounced from one woman to the next, until Mary, who demanded his complete devotion and fidelity. He'd learned how to control himself through her, as she never let his hands wander under her skirts. She was saving herself for marriage and he wanted to prove he was worthy of her, so he kept away from other women, and contained his urges as best he could. 

Then after a few years, when the strain finally broke them and turned things completely sour, he'd thrown himself back into the first bed he found. Taking a new pretty face every night that he could find the time, months of soulless sex and quick fixes to fill to void, until he met Eliza. An enchanting young thing that had captivated him completely and changed him forever. 

He hadn't been faithful to her of course, she hadn't asked him to be either. There were other women in the times he was away from her and his son, but losing her and Isaac broke something within him. Instilling a grief ridden fear of loss and failure so great that he couldn't ever allow himself to indulge any of his primitive urges with another again. Too afraid to risk creating another life that he could love so deeply but lose so easily. 

Of course, he still thought about sex plenty, sometimes wishing he could fuck his pain away, but he made do with his hand when he couldn't resist a release any longer, and hadn't found another physical outlet - such as laying a beating on someone. Knowing all too well that the almost overwhelming urge to take a risk, and be intimate with a woman, would immediately leave him almost as quickly as his seed. Then the guilt and fear of repeating his past mistakes would return so much sharper and heavier in the absence of lust, leaving him colder and emptier than he'd ever felt. 

He didn't need the arousing thoughts that encroached into that secluded area of his mind, and he especially didn't need thoughts of that nature about Rae. She was beautiful, and alluring too but he didn't want to pay it no mind. He managed to avoid his thoughts and feelings about Abigail for years, despite what they'd had briefly, a long time ago. He'd thought about Mary-Beth in that way once or twice too, but she was too young for him and deserving of so much better. 

Hell, he was sure every woman he'd ever met deserved better than him, and most of them were more than willing to let him know it too. He didn't need to hear it from someone like Rae, knowing she'd probably take great delight in rejecting him just out of spite or a sense of one-upmanship. She didn't need or want his attentions, and it certainly seemed like she didn't need his protection either. 

Convinced he had nothing to offer her, even if he wanted to try, Arthur sighed heavily. He considered writing his thoughts down in his journal, but he couldn't bring himself to. He knew that act often bought too much clarity to his mind, and he did not want to unearth the true motivation for his feelings towards Rae. It was easier just to push it all to one side and pay it no mind as best he could. 

He forced himself to be adamant that it was for the best if he kept his distance from her, as much as possible. He didn't need the distraction, or another broken dream to keep him awake at night. She was an infuriating woman who would drive him to drink for one reason or another, of that he was certain.

Like a finished cigarette, he stamped out the very notion that he was developing an interest in her of any kind and closed his eyes tightly. Willing sleep to come and remove his final thoughts of the day from his memory and let him start with a fresh clean head in the morning. A mindset that he hoped would be free of thoughts of her and all the worries and strange urges she'd infected him with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd like to see more! :)


	8. Caught In The Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you all again, so much, for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter. Your support really does mean the world and helps keep me motivated when chapters want to be difficult haha! Things get a little heated for Arthur in this installment, and the stage is set for a shift in his relationship with Rae, so it's a fairly long chapter and I do hope you enjoy it! :)

A week and a bit passed after the homestead robbery, and despite his best efforts Arthur couldn't bring himself to leave Sanctuary as he'd initially intended. He wasn't certain of why he hadn't packed up to leave, but he told himself the way the weather was drawing in, ever colder all around, made it wiser to stay near camp. 

It seemed that there was never a good time to slip away for an extended adventure of a week or two either, there was just too much to do - camp chores, score planning and hunting. Something always cropped up to keep him tethered to the place - at least that's what he told himself. Wilfully ignoring the fact he kept volunteering his help to his gang mates wherever possible, subconsciously searching for any excuse to stick around Sanctuary for one more day. 

He didn't want to know why he felt so strangely compelled to continue to find reasons to stay on, or why he kept riding back each time he tried to go further out. Afraid to acknowledge the true reasons that kept him anchored to the ranch, and all the unusual feelings that lingered within him, just below the surface of his consciousness. 

Despite not truly settling himself, it pleased him greatly to see just how well the gang had all found their feet at the ranch, better there than they ever had any place he could recall them being before. Everyone seemed undeniably content and at home in their new surroundings, appearing like they'd been there for years not just weeks. There had been no sign of the trouble Rae warned of, and Arthur hoped it would continue that way, wanting little else than to see his people continue to be happy, for as long as possible.

The girls were going in and out of town daily, listening out for tips on jobs and easy takes in the area, helping out in the saloon and keeping up with their regular chores too. Enjoying earning a little extra in tips from entertaining the saloon's patrons with endless flirtation, that allowed them to treat themselves to a little luxury or two here and there. 

The men put in the hours around the ranch, fixing what needed fixing, making improvements where they could, taking care of the small amount of livestock, gathering things in and preparing to batten down for the fast approaching the winter months. Spending intermittent days prepping small scores when the opportunity presented itself, or making supply runs for Rae out of town. Most regularly of all, they seemed to enjoy just wasting their evenings drinking themselves silly and stumbling back to their cabins for a solid sleep before starting all over again when daylight came. 

Arthur hated to admit it but he liked to see everyone looking so happy there. Even with the colder air setting in, Hosea seemed much healthier than he'd been in months, and Abigail appeared contented in a way she hadn't since John up and vanished so many months earlier. 

Little Jack was brighter too; he always seemed to have himself a big smile and a new toy in his hands. All coming from a big box of old things Rae had presented him with, a wooden boat, various farm animals and figures along with a wealth of different story books that her mother had kept from her and her brother's childhood. All of which had the young lad entertained from dawn to dusk, keeping him out from under his mother's feet. 

Arthur had overheard Abigail talking with Rae one evening, saying she was spoiling him, but he knew the young mother was only protesting out of politeness, the truth was she overjoyed to see her son so contented and safe - they all were. He needed stability and security, a roof over his head and decent food in his belly, the ranch provided that and so much more. 

Everything seemed to have fallen into place and the gang had found the perfect rhythm that matched life at Sanctuary ranch. The more Arthur saw his people contented, the harder it became to continue to begrudge the initial decision to accept Rae's hospitality. 

No one seemed happier with the arrangement than Dutch, of course. His chest hadn't ever appeared fuller and his laughter was never more frequent. Every time Arthur saw him he was swaning around the ranch like lord of the manor, greeting patrons in the saloon and overseeing proceedings with Miss Grimshaw as if he owned the place. Trying to charm Rae at every verse end too, taking her hand and opening doors for her, getting up to pull out her chair at the dinner table, and all the chivalrous nonsense he'd lay on an inch thick whenever he was trying to lure a new face into his bed. 

Arthur tried his very best to deny just how much it irked him to witness such behaviour, and fortunately he was able to placate his simmering emotions by watching the expressions Rae gave off. The suspiciously wary glint he noted in her eye made it clear she was wise enough not to buy into any of Dutch's pandering, but she still played along for his benefit. 

There was something about the way she handled Dutch which made Arthur smile inside, he hadn't seen a woman take his mentor's chivalry with a pinch of salt before. He tried to believe she wouldn't falter in her resolve, but he knew it was likely to only be a matter of time until Dutch broke down her defences, and turned her into another notch on his bedpost. 

For the sake of his sanity, Arthur did his utmost to keep out of Rae's way. Crossing paths with her only a couple of times a day at best whenever he hung around. Catching glimpses of her as she went about her daily business, and getting the opportunity to observe her longer when everyone gathered to eat and share their evenings together. They both strenuously avoided making eye contact with one another and rarely exchanged more than an affirmative nod, and only if it was absolutely necessary. 

However every interaction they had, no matter how small, made questions and feelings dance frantically around a maypole in the centre of Arthur's brain. He quickly found that focusing too hard on his thoughts of her made him moody and short tempered through frustration for lack of answers and understanding. Fortunately however, he found it easy to come up with ways to distract himself from all the questions he had about her, and how his feelings were evolving. 

Whenever he found himself ruminating too much, he'd ride out as far as he dared, sniffing out the area all around and picking up a few little jobs here and there. Bringing home a decent catch or two for the pot each night, or gathering different bits and pieces that Slim had requested. Keeping his mind as busy as he could for as long as possible, confident in how well the sunlight kept his personal darkness away, and blocked his thoughts from reflecting in on himself and the situation he was in. 

Truth was he was most happy out in the world, riding round on Boadicea, with Copper trotting along besides him. Spotting different animals and birds to draw, meeting strange people with odd tasks and needs that he could assist with. There was never a dull moment, and always money to be made. He was the gangs best earner and being locked down for the winter and confused and irritated by Rae, did nothing to change that. 

No matter how far he strayed from Sanctuary, he was always compelled to return before dark. Wanting to make sure he was there to oversee the safety of everyone and doing a few camp chores here and there to keep his hand in. He was also always poised ready to help out when and wherever his family asked him to, but continued to keep a safe distance away from taking on any direct requests from Rae. 

He found he got the bulk of his information about what she was like, and what she'd been doing, by catching up with his friends on all that had been going on during the days when he'd forced himself to keep away from the ranch. Learning more and more about her and the place itself, trying his best not to seem too curious knowing his gang mates would tease him relentlessly if they had cause to think he cared too much about Rae's welfare. 

He tried to stay sociable with everyone but always retired before things got too rowdy. He preferred to keep to himself in his tent as best he could, resting and reading. Cleaning his guns or plotting out journey's to and from the surrounding areas. Always finding something easy to do that would fully occupy his mind, but deliberately avoiding drawing or writing in his journal for knowing just how deep that particular rabbit hole would take him. 

Some evenings, while the others went through to the saloon to drink, Arthur found himself staying behind in the kitchen after dinner and enjoying a chat with Slim, who was quite the character. A man who'd found literal sanctuary at the ranch almost fifteen years earlier, when escaping an angry mob. Rae's father had kept him hidden in a secret room in the cellar for weeks until the heat had died down. Then once it was safe, had given him a job and a roof over his head while he recovered from his injuries, and Slim had never left. 

Watching over Rae like a protective uncle and helping her maintain the place as best he could despite his health declining with age. It was clear they made a nice little team, with the help of Red the barkeep too, but it was a big place for such a small group to run smoothly and keep secure. It was easy to understand why Rae had taken a gamble on asking for help, there was no doubt without more hands on deck the ship would have gone under. 

With his animosity wavering rapidly, Arthur was starting to see how Sanctuary was much like the Van der Linde gang - a place where misfits could find a home. Only instead of moving around collecting people all across the country, the ranch stayed put and the needy came to it. Finding a safe and accepting place in a world that could be so dark and vicious at times. A place to call home for those who needed it, for the small price of contributing in any way they felt comfortable. 

Learning about the place and those who'd helped to build it made it all too easy to find admiration for where he was. As much as he hated to admit it was a good call, he was growing satisfied with the choice to stay for the winter. It was a relief in itself just to see that Dutch was always thrilled about how well the box was keeping full and growing too. With few living costs to contend with there was extra to be put aside for their big plans of owning land and creating a version of Sanctuary for themselves one day. 

Despite his receding bitterness about bring there, and finding it hard to think of a complaint about the place, Arthur still couldn't detach from his prevailing hostility towards Rae. He didn't understand why, not after seeing inside her head the way he had the night of the robbery, but whenever she came into a room, he found himself automatically making some excuse and walking out the door she came through before it had chance to close. 

He told himself he didn't care if she or anyone else noticed the tension between them, but a tiny part of him didn't like to be so rude. He just couldn't stand to interact with her, knowing how just seeing her face filled him with wildly different emotions. It was far easier to be stoic and avoidant with her, when he wasn't focusing on a task. Believing not seeing her would prevent any more seeds of wonder about her from bedding into his brain and taking root. 

It was hard to avoid her completely though, especially whenever he'd stayed around during the daytime. She was always floating about working on something, but thankfully she never needed his help in particular, there were plenty of strong men willing to unload wagons and guard her deliveries, so that she didn't need to ask anything of him. 

From what he saw, she never seemed shy of pulling her weight either, rolling barrels and hauling heavy crates with ease, never asking for help without trying to do something herself first. From what he saw of her she looked adept with a hammer and saw too, and she seemed just as at home in the kitchen as she was in the fields breaking her back working the land. Jumping in to help Slim cook or Red tend to the bar in the busiest times in the Saloon, she didn't seem to stop and it worried him to see. There was something unnervingly familiar about her constant need for distraction. Knowing all too well how perpetual movement kept his own demons at bay. 

If he hadn't felt so strangely irritated by her he would have perhaps admired her level of involvement. Plenty of women had passed through the camp over the years, most of them were comfortable doing the laundry and mending clothes, cooking and cleaning like they'd been shown by their mothers. Few however were willing to help skin a kill or load a wagon up without taking offense to the mere suggestion. For what he saw of Rae, nothing seemed to phase her and she struggled on without thinking to ask for help first. Often refusing to accept it when it was offered, even though it was what she'd asked the gang there for in the first place. 

He found her strange in her independence, how she was so self sufficient, taking on more than her fair share. He'd guessed her worth ethic had come from running with the Clayton gang, he knew the leader, Boone, had a reputation for being demanding and Arthur doubted he cut any slack for the female members. 

Of course, knowing of her past associations had only made his curiosity about her deepen. Regularly he found himself looking back over what Sean had told him about her past, wondering how many men she'd ripped off in her time, and how many crimes she'd committed. Considering if that was why she looked so broken and empty inside, or if something bigger had happened to rot out her core and cause guilt to grow like mould right through her. 

An ache seemed to form in his stomach whenever he got to wondering about who she was before they met. He didn't like to consider the shady things she'd done or the darkness she'd seen inside her. It was easier to stay hardened to her if he avoided relating to her in anyway. Trying his best to keep focused on what he could actually see of her behaviour, and not that which would likely always remain a mystery to him. 

He noted that it was almost dawn some days before he saw her pass by his tent on her way home to bed. She was often carrying a bunch of ledgers and paperwork too, suggesting even though she was heading to her room, her work didn't stop. Running the place seemed so much harder than the outlaw life he knew himself and the one he guessed she used to have too. He couldn't help but question what kept her so determined to maintain the ranch when it would be so much easier to run from the burden of it. 

One evening, while playing dominos inside the saloon, he'd learned from Hosea that Rae's bedroom was at the front of the big house, on the ground floor. The same room where he'd already noted the light burned on through the darkness almost every night. The pieces of information clicked together and he came to realize she was likely still awake and working while everyone else slept. Only to be up and around the grounds again within a few hours, starting work before the rest had dragged themselves out of their beds. 

Arthur had dared wonder if she was trying to work herself to death, since he wondered the same thing about himself on occasion over the years, but he chose to assume she just liked to keep busy. He did too, the more he had to do with his hands the less his mind could wonder to the dark places that ramped up the eternal ache in his soul. The same ache he'd seen in her eyes the night she'd stolen his horse for a second time. The image of which seemed to have imprinted itself on his mind, troubling him in every quiet moment he had, encouraging him to keep his distance from her. Afraid of how much deeper he'd sink into wondering about her if he got close enough to see inside her head again. 

He'd been doing well to maintain monitoring of her behaviour around the ranch, while staying far out of her way, until one evening, exactly two weeks after the robbery, when his best efforts to avoid Rae were inadvertently thwarted. In an attempt to find Hosea before dinner, he'd gone to the main house looking for him, and had knocked the door to no reply. Guessing he hadn't been heard, he'd ventured on in cautiously. Looking around from the threshold, scanning the open plan living room first, then the corridor which lead down to the kitchen and dining space, before feeling confident enough that it was appropriate to step on inside. 

He took of his hat as he entered, looking to the fire burning in the living room hearth for a moment or two, as if waiting or a sign of life to appear but there was no one around to enjoy the fire's warmth. He'd noted a door to his right, but knew from what Hosea had told him that it was Rae's room on the other side. He had no intention of knocking and disturbing her, so he walked on a little further down the hallway that lead him into the kitchen and dining area hoping to find his people, but there was no one around. 

Curious about where everyone was, and why he hadn't seen them around outside, he took a couple of steps up the stairs and listened to what was going on above him. Poised ready to shout out to see who was home on the second floor, when he heard something behind him at the far end of the kitchen. 

Scratching the back of his head nervously, he wandered back past the dining table and through the kitchen to where a door at the far end of the room was ajar. With no knowledge of the building's layout, he stepped up ready to walk straight through, expecting another sitting room or a storage area on the other side, but as he pushed the door in and opened his mouth to speak, he stopped dead in his tracks. Words locked in his throat, body frozen to the spot. 

Behind the door was a bathroom, a candle lit bathroom, full of steam and pretty scents. In the center of the room was a bathtub, where Rae was sat facing away from him, laying in the bath covered by nothing but soapy water and bubbles, hair pinned up on top of her head as she carefully washed a wet cloth up and down her arms and neck. Humming a pretty song to herself and completely unaware she was no longer alone. 

A flash of panic shuddered through Arthur and he stepped back out of the door, drawing it to softly as he went. Holding his breath for several beats, he braced for her screaming reaction, however nothing but silence came forward. It seemed she hadn't noticed his intrusion at all. 

He blew out a silent but relieved sigh and went to turn away, fully intent on leaving her be, but for some reason he couldn't move. He was fixed place, feet barely a centimetre over the right side of the door. As a sinister little voice piped up and told him that if he leant forward a little he'd be able to see back inside the bathroom clearly, without being noticed. 

_'Don't be a Goddamn creep, Morgan!'_ he hissed at himself, angry he was even considering lowering himself to such action, but his words failed to fall. 

Before he knew what he was doing he was taking half a step forward and peering into the bathroom again, focusing on her intently as she bathed. Completely oblivious to him being merely feet away, watching her so shamelessly, his mouth hanging open in wonder. 

Feeling hot and hazy, he swallowed hard, ashamed of himself for being unable to turn away as familiar tingles began to develop at his core. It was something so simple but it felt so erotic to be there secretly watching her in such an intimate moment, yet his heated blood suddenly flashed cold when she sat up and leant forward to reach her legs and feet. Her back had peeled away from the cover of the tub, letting the candle light spread in behind her, revealing more skin to his prying eyes. 

His focus instantly honed in on the prominent scars on her back, four or five long thin lashes permanently etched into her skin, with a dark pink half moon at the base of her shoulder blade and a rounder scar with jagged edges at the lowest end of her exposed torso, almost hidden by the bubbles on the waterline.

The sight of it all made his blood run hot again with anger, as his stomach flipped cold. Worst still, above the old wounds sat an even stranger marking at the base of her neck. He couldn't make out the detail in the dim light but it was unlike any injury he'd seen healed before, it didn't have the hallmarks of a stab wound, or even a bullet injury, from what he could see it looked very much like a brand. 

His chest lit up with confusing but fiery anger that stifled the tingle of arousal he felt. Acidity stung at his throat, trying to encourage him to break from his hiding place and speak out or burst into the room angrily to demand the answers and names he needed. 

She'd clearly been hurt badly by someone, but by who? _Her father?_ It didn't seem to make sense, he seemed like a good man from what Hosea and Slim had said. A lover maybe? Perhaps the law? Or people on the wrong side of it? 

He bit down on the strange sense of visceral anger inside him, knowing it didn't serve anyone to blow up over something that had clearly happened years ago. Instead he kept rooted to the spot, watching her with softer eyes full of concern that had blanketed itself over the lust he'd initially felt. 

His mind began to fill with even more questions about her life, recalling again how Sean had mentioned she ran with a bad gang, and considering her past with even more concern than he had before. He knew that Boone Clayton's gang were as savage as they were smart, but he also knew they didn't hurt their own. Someone else had harmed her and his palms began to itch with the urge to choke someone for it. 

He was so wrapped up in his anger he barely noticed when she rang out the cloth she was using and stood up. Letting the water run off her naked body that glistened in the candle light. 

Suddenly his eyes took better focus and he became flushed with a different kind of heat at the sight; sensations he'd forgotten he was capable of feeling flooded his body defiantly as he lent into the door jamb to steady himself. 

He was unable to tear his eyes away from how beautiful her slender body looked in the soft light, the curve of her hips and the way she bought the fabric of her towel around to drape over her shapely ass. The scene appealed to parts of him that he'd tried so hard to kill off over the years. Filling him with urges he'd spent so long denying and avoiding at all costs. 

He didn't want to think of her in such an erotic way, and something familiar inside tried hard to pull him back from the verge he was teetering on, but the more he fought to chase the infectious images of being with her from his brain, the more they expanded into a consuming kaleidoscopic fantasy. 

An ache began to form in his abdomen as he battled to hold onto reality and not slip into indulging the side of himself that he kept locked away for so long. He'd had to be so careful of himself after all. He was around women all the time in camp, beautiful women, who he would have been lucky to lay with but he couldn't stand to get himself into a mess. Knowing everyone he'd ever felt that way about had either hurt him in some way, or left him for another. He'd locked that side of himself down, so hard. Repressing his desires and refusing to let himself get hurt again, especially for a quick thrill. 

Yet as he watched her dry herself, unknowingly offering him a full view of her body and glimpses of her breasts as she turned to work the towel, the urges inside him grew relentlessly. Heat building more and more in his chest, the tingling fullness in his groin overriding all his sense as his imagination continued to run away from him. 

Delicate thoughts came to him at first, visions of her turning her head and catching sight of him over her shoulder, smiling to see him there and welcoming him in by dropping her towel to the floor and offering her body up to him. His mouth almost watering with wonder about how she'd taste, and remembering so clearly how well her slender body had fit against his bulk in the closet two weeks earlier. 

As his arousal grew stronger, hand in hand with frustration at being unable to touch, rawer images flashed in front of his eyes wildly. Scenes of him bursting through the door and taking her roughly against the bathroom wall bought only further tightening to his jeans. Causing him to wonder how loud he could make her cry his name, and how good her nails would feel clawing at his back. Snippets of passionate scenes playing over and over in his mind. Imagining himself taking her in every which way he could in the small bathroom, pleasuring her in all the ways he knew how. 

His throat felt tight, his skin tingling with overwhelming desire as he forced himself to focus clear of his fantasies to watch as she sat down front of the sink unit with a mirror above, reflecting her image back to him, framing her upper body perfectly to show a clear view of her full breasts and the long neck that his mouth craved to kiss. 

He knew how wrong it was to be there, but he couldn't look away as she continued to dry herself. The tension in his jeans rapidly building to unbearable levels, and urging him to lower his hand just to touch briefly and check what was happening. 

He lent harder against the door jamb, his fingers tightening his grip on his hat as his free hand lowered itself below his waist. Allowing his fingers to graze painfully over his erection, as he watched her pick up a jar of lotion and carefully begin to stroke it into her face and neck, working down to her chest, and across to her shoulders. Making his knees feel weak as his finger tips lingered over the bulge that was desperate to be addressed, his own faint ghosting touch frustrating him in such a delightful way. 

His breathing turning ragged as his eyes stitched themselves to her bare body, focusing on the smooth motion of her hands and the rhythmic rubbing of her skin that appealed so greatly to his hips. Winding up the tension and desire within him, filling him with the urge to thrust into his hand, or burst in and see if she'd oblige him. 

She looked so beautiful in the candle light, naked and unashamed, completely unaware of how he was staring at her. His fingers lazily toying with the button that fastened his jeans, as the need to touch himself and relieve the tension he felt began to border on a throbbing agony. 

"Uncle Arthur?" a small voice called suddenly from behind him. Making him jump a good few inches in the air, knocking a can off the side of the kitchen counter next to him. Sending it clattering loudly to the wooden floor. 

"Jack!" Arthur cried, slapping his hat over his crotch, spinning around to find the little boy was standing by the kitchen table. "Wh-what at are you doing there?"

Jack looked at him oddly, he was still too young to easily articulate exactly what was going on in his head. "What's in there?" he asked, stepping forward but Arthur met him midway, blocking the little boy's route.

"Nothing!" he insisted desperately, attempting to herd him back away from the bathroom door but the restricted space in his jeans made it uncomfortable to move. "Where's your mother?"

"She's-" before Jack could answer a voice came from behind them and Arthur's stomach dropped to the floor like a rock. 

"Can I help you?" Rae asked out, and Arthur looked back at her over his shoulder. She was wrapped up in a silk robe, clutching the neck line up around her throat so as not to reveal a hint of skin, that he'd already seen plenty of. 

"I-I..I was....I....err..." Arthur mentally slapped himself, believing it to be obvious that he'd been caught out. Taking a deep breath and keeping his hat in place over his crotch he turned slowly to face her directly, hoping to appear as casual and calm as possible. "I-I'm lookin' for Hosea." 

Rae eyed him suspiciously, she felt sure she would have noticed if he'd been watching her, but she hadn't felt his presence yet the look on his face seemed so guilty of something. The way he had his hat hover over his groin looked suspicious too, but with Jack in the room she couldn't confront him in any way. 

"He went into town with Dutch and Javier." 

"Oh, okay. Thanks." he nodded nervously, turning his back to her and focusing on Jack again. "Where's your momma?"

"Upstairs. We're going for dinner soon." Jack beamed. 

"Alright, well go get her then." he insisted, hustling the small boy away from the kitchen and towards the staircase. Letting him head up calling for Abigail, while Arthur himself escaped the house to keep his reddened cheeks and pants predicament hidden from Rae. Leaving her alone to consider just what the hell had gone on to make him look so sheepish. 

Later that night Arthur left camp and didn't return for a couple of weeks. He was ashamed of himself and afraid of being unable to look Rae in the eye after what he'd done. Worried that she'd figured him out and taken further offence to his mere existence for knowing he'd been spying on her in such a vulgar way. 

He felt terrible for letting himself slip and indulge in those kinds of thoughts, especially about her. He hated even more how he'd been forced to consider the fact he'd been attracted to her from the moment they'd met, but he put his urges down to being starved of intimacy for so long. 

He spent days telling himself repeatedly and firmly that there wasn't anything special about her. He insisted that he would have been caught up in the moment just the same with any woman. Yet deep down he continually doubted his own resolve, and it stung at him the whole time he was away. 

Even with so much trouble crossing his path away from Sanctuary, he couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened if she'd spotted him before Jack did. Day after day, all day long he was dogged by guilt. Thinking of how he'd invaded her privacy, and how she would have screamed to see him, and how embarrassed he would have been for everyone to know what he'd done. How he'd be given such dirty looks by his friends, and how others would never let up making fun of him over it if they had the first clue that he was creeping on a bathing woman. 

When he wasn't spending his days stewing in his own embarrassment, he kept wondering about the marks on her back. Considering how she got them and who'd hurt her in such a way, making himself angrier at the world. Wishing he knew who'd caused her such harm and wondering if that was why she looked so damaged inside when he'd looked into her eyes. 

However, when each night fell his mood shifted dramatically. Suddenly the remorse and shame he'd felt shifted over for disappointment to plague him with ideas of what could have happened if she'd turned to find him with a favourable mood. Indulging himself in a dream or two of how he could have lost himself in her, kissing her full lips, her naked skin pressed against his. How nice it would have felt to feel another body against him and how amazing it would have been to be inside someone again after so long. 

His skin burned with desire at the very suggestion of being intimate with her, and he hated it. He didn't want those types of feelings and it sure seemed like she didn't need him thinking of her in that way either. Yet the harder he tried to force the desires inside him out, the harder they pushed back in. Demanding urges pairing with the fantasies that caused that familiar tension in his crotch, all of which wouldn't relent until he dealt with the matter physically. Only ending up finding himself feeling emptier and pained worse than ever before once the deed was done. 

Night after night he fought with himself, out in the world surviving with a makeshift tent and bedroll for warmth and only Boadicea and Copper for comfort. If hadn't been for the cold becoming more and more bitter he would have stayed away from Sanctuary longer, in fact he'd considered never going back at all, but he couldn't leave his family and he knew the more time he spent away the harder it would be to return. 

Towards the end of his second week away he realized he had to go back and face the music, and all he could do was hope that she hadn't mentioned the incident to anyone else, and wouldn't confront him about what had happened. Knowing he wouldn't be able to offer any kind of excuse or justification for his actions. The shame he felt would burn him to ash right in front of her, he was certain. 

Submitting to the idea of returning to Sanctuary, he packed up and rode back on the hope that things wouldn't have changed in his absence. Crossing his fingers too that the evolution of his thoughts about her wouldn't be revealed in any way. He didn't want her to have any idea of what had been going through his head so vividly, and what he'd been driven to do by the burgeoning fantasies she'd infected him with. Afraid that any good graces she had for him would be burned up in an instant to know how dishonourably he'd been thinking of her. 

Despite the pit in his stomach and the urge to run and never return, Arthur managed to slip back into Sanctuary late one afternoon without attracting too much attention. Hosea was first to notice he was back, and was quick to ask where he'd been for so long but he just made his excuses. Put a large chunk of money in the camp box and hoped that would be the end of everyone's curiosity. 

Eager to avoid questioning, he tucked himself away in his tent, changing clothes and restocking his satchel as he planned his next move of avoidance, but before he could settle his anxiety about being back, or put any new plan of escape into action, he heard a fuss coming from the back of the saloon. If he wasn't mistaken it was Rae's voice, and it was raised, angrily. 

Concerned and curious, he stuck his head out of the tent and saw that she was standing on a large wagon parked on the path that ran behind the saloon. She was gesticulating angrily down to Bill and Lenny, who were seemingly trying to help, but looked equally as annoyed. Shaking their heads and nodding along with her irritation. 

Arthur was hesitant in approaching, he felt sure he had no desire to get involved, yet something drew him out from under his canvas and over towards where the small group was standing, looking through crates quickly, flipping lids and complaining. 

He didn't know why he was heading over, no one seemed to need his help but a strange magnetism had him by the throat. Filling him with an overwhelming need to get involved with her problems, stemming from the deeply buried pain he'd felt to see so many of her scars and an eagerness to test the waters between them. 

"Sons of bitches!" Rae hissed, slamming the lid of a crate down angrily and jumping down from the stocked wagon. "I order four crates of whiskey and get six crates of Goddamn laundry soap? Ten crates of beer and I get whatever the fuck this is?" She kicked another opened crate near her feet which contained some strange looking vegetable that Arthur couldn't place. 

"I'm sorry, Rae. We should have checked it before we took it, but he had people load it for us." Lenny offered. 

She sighed heavily and turned back to Lenny. "It's not your fault." she insisted. "I should have reminded you to check it first. Earl always screws something up like this. I'm not sure if the needs glasses or if he just has pig shit for brains." The two men chuckled but Rae just sighed, rubbing her right temple as if she had a headache brewing. "I've still got so much to do today, but I'm gonna have to take it back and rip that idiot a new asshole." 

"We can go back and swap it out." Lenny insisted looking to Bill for agreement. 

"Oh I would, but I-I...I gotta help Dutch with somethin'." Bill's tone suggested he was hoping to escape another hour's ride out to the nearest store that would supply Rae. If Arthur knew Bill well enough, he was lying about being needed and simply wanted to disappear off to squeeze in an afternoon nap before dinner. 

"Arthur!" Lenny cried, spotting him lurking a good enough distance away. 

_'Oh shit!_ ' he hissed to himself, cursing his curiosity for getting himself into trouble, as per usual. It was too late to run and he knew he couldn't hide without attracting even more scrutiny, so he relented. 

"Yeah, Lenny?" Arthur replied dejectedly, already knowing what was coming before the younger man spoke out. 

"You busy? Can you ride with me to take this stuff back and get what Rae needs?" 

She glanced over to him, and sensed his discomfort. He looked like a scolded child, and she didn't have to guess why. Something about how he'd acted in the house the last time she'd seen him, and how he'd suddenly disappeared that same night told her he'd been watching her in the bathroom, and she deeply hated how she couldn't find it inside to be mad about it. Not in that moment, or all the days before that he'd been missing. The truth was, she was glad to see he'd come back, even if his tail was still somewhat between his legs. 

She knew she should have been offended by his intrusion, or at very least disturbed by the thought of him watching her bathe. Hell, the darker side of her considered how she could have used it as ammunition against him, if it ever became necessary, but she didn't want to go down that road. After so many years of fighting to be seen as an equal to the men she ran with, and becoming 'just one of the boys' to every man she knew, it felt oddly nice to think he was admiring her in such an intimate way. It felt better too knowing that he hadn't let his primal urges get the better of him. She'd been vulnerable in the bathroom and she knew most other men wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage. 

After the strange sensations she'd felt during their time trapped in a cupboard together, and his gruff reaction over it, it amused her to think of how torn he must have been while spying on her. She'd wondered about it for all the days he's been gone, but believe it best to chalk the whole thing up to just another strange and frustrating interaction between them. No harm was done after all, and he seemed far more embarrassed about it than she ever did. 

During the two weeks he'd been away she came to realize it was just too hard and tiring to maintain any hostility towards him. The way his intense but puppy-like eyes had looked right into her soul a month earlier, had whittled down something inside her that suspended her animosity and it had fallen free. Allowing her to see clearer and noticing there was in fact something very different about him, something that she couldn't grasp onto but appealed to her greatly. 

She felt it had something to do with the way his presence, no matter how hostile or invasive, seemed to make her feel so oddly protected in a way she'd never felt before. He was an unusual man, so different to the hot headed morons, bigots and bravado ridden fools she'd known in her time. There was something intriguing about him and the way he behaved, and she knew she'd been an idiot to deny it for so long. 

"Nah, it's okay, Lenny. I'll take it back in the mornin'." she dismissed, even if she had started warm to Arthur, she still didn't want to be left owing him any favours. She began loading up the few boxes they'd taken off, but Lenny hurried in to help her. 

"No, no. We'll do it." Lenny assured as Hosea made his presence known from the back of the saloon. Heading over to see what all the fuss was about. "Arthur?" 

He sighed, he couldn't refuse Lenny even if he wasn't too keen on helping Rae out after everything said and done. He also didn't want to say no in front of Hosea either, knowing the old man wouldn't take it well to see his son refusing to help a lady in need. Doubts would be created, questions would be asked, ones he wasn't sure he wanted to try to answer, or knew how to. 

"Sure." he relented. 

Lenny's smile warmed Arthur's coldness and Rae didn't find it in her argue again, which he found it odd. Something about her seemed withdrawn, tired and defeated almost. As if the fire he'd seen in her since they first met was beginning to fade. 

"Thanks." Rae gave, clearly directing it and both of them, not just Arthur, even though she didn't glance his way. She simply focused on sliding the last crate into place on the back of the wagon. "And tell Earl he owes you two somethin', and me a discount on the next order, for the trouble."

"I'll be sure and tell him." Lenny confirmed and nodded to Arthur to get up on the front of the wagon. 

"And be careful." Hosea added coming closer. "He might do this all the time, but you never know if it was planned as some kind of Syndicate trap." 

The two men didn't waste a second of the fading daylight and set off right away. Heading back east to get the problem resolved and be back home with the weeks supplies before night set in. 

Rae sighed to herself as she watched Lenny guide the wagon onto the path that lead back down to the road. She'd been trying like hell to keep Arthur from her thoughts and the last thing she wanted was for him to be running errands for her. 

Something about him still made her uneasy in the strangest of ways. She wasn't afraid of him, and she didn't dislike him, but try as she might she couldn't put her finger on why he'd got under her skin so much. She guessed it was all to do with the way they'd met and his initial resentment but something had shifted in her when she'd felt his ability to look beyond the mask she wore to the sides of herself that she kept behind walls. She knew that alone should have frightened her, but for a unexplained reason it didn't. Not with him. She didn't know him anywhere near well enough to feel safe around him, but mysteriously she did. 

She wasn't sure where her stance on him had changed exactly, but she knew it likely stemmed from how he'd behaved in the wake of her borrowing his horse, repeatedly. He'd had enough opportunities to extract revenge or establish some kind of dominance over her as punishment for her cheek, but aside from cutting looks and avoidance he hadn't done anything to get back at her. She didn't know many men who would have let things go so easily; most men she'd known were all too quick to want to show a woman her place by breaking her spirit. 

There was a depth about his eyes too, one that looked so soft and tender, sad too in a way she could relate to. Yet he always seemed so mad on the surface, a big gruff exterior to keep people at a distance, but whenever she got close enough to steal a decent look at his unfocused eyes she saw the softness within him. 

His exterior didn't seem to match with the behaviours she'd seen within his gang mates either, he fell over himself to help them at times. Although she couldn't deny knowing he'd likely spied on her in the bathroom did fit with the asshole persona he chose and carried so well. Yet the fact he seemed so ashamed of himself won him back some good favour. 

Despite not wanting to warm to him in the way she knew she was, she couldn't help hoping he hadn't hardened to her too much, as each time she'd ever found him looking at her she could practically hear the cogs in his head turning as he sized her up. She hated how if she allowed herself to feel it, her skin prickled with heat under his gaze, more intensely than ever. She hated more how she found herself wondering where he was when a day passed without spotting him lurking around the ranch. The two weeks he'd been absent had left her on edge in a way she couldn't explain or understand. 

She hated most of all that sometimes when she was trying real hard to concentrate on something or fall asleep that her mind slipped and she began to wonder about him, his damned soulful eyes and grumpiness. Thinking about how much he doted on that horse of his and the dog too, how he'd often be scribbling something in that journal or jumping in to help one of his friends out. Chatting to the girls who swooned after him, and spending time with Jack too, never being too busy to hear what the little feller had to tell him. 

She couldn't speak from direct personal experience, but he seemed like a good guy, at least when it came to those he cared about. There was none of the brashness and fake charm his friends had. He was a gentler soul, that much was clear to her now. 

How he felt about her, however, was up for debate and she didn't care to ponder on it. She had enough problems without worrying whether or not some grumpy outlaw held her in decent regard. Even if she had found herself spying on him from her bedroom window early in the morning, as he washed just outside his tent and trimmed his beard skilfully. It was just a little curiosity, of course. Nothing serious, although she knew she could never have been as nosy with any of the other men in camp. 

She convinced herself that she was glad he'd kept his distance from her whenever he was around, if only for the fact it allowed her to feel like she didn't owe him anything. She'd hated having to ask Hosea and Dutch, or any of the others to help her, and even though she was providing shelter and food, she still felt like she owed a debt to everyone who had stepped in to help her keep Sanctuary's heart beating healthily. 

She didn't want to feel that way with Arthur, not when things were strained and they felt so awkward around one another. It was just easier to just let it go, avoid him, and hope to prevent him taking any more opportunities to look directly into her soul, like he had that night after the homestead robbery. 

It felt foolish to feel more comfortable with the idea of him seeing her naked than seeing into her soul, but the idea that someone, after so many years, could see past the face she painted on created a troubling mix of emotion within her, that she didn't want to ever confront. 

Blowing out a sigh she hooked her thumbs into her belt and tilted her head to the side, standing watch for a while after the wagon disappeared over the horizon, before dusting off her hands and heading back towards the saloon to make a start stretching the stock they had left over, as far as it could go. 

Before stepping inside she glanced up at the hazy blue sky, and said silent but meaningful prayer that the two men would make it back safely. If only so she could have another chance to continue to avoid Arthur and further confuse herself about him now that he'd returned. 

However, she'd long run out of favours with the higher powers above, and her heartfelt request was left unheard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUUUN! Haha! Trouble is brewing! ;)  
> Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear any thoughts you'd like to share. Hope you all enjoyed! :)


	9. Fixed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'm so sorry to have gone so long between updates. If you follow me on social, or my other Arthur fic on here (Wish Upon) you'll already know why I've been absent for so long....  
> A string of illnesses have kicked the hell out of me recently, and for the last couple of weeks I've been doing my best to get caught up on everything being sick forced me to neglect.  
> Anyway, I'm back now and I hope you are all still eager to read this fic. Thank you all so much for the love you've shown up until this point!  
> Enjoy! :)

When Rae's day finally came to an end, the sun had long gone down on Sanctuary. Confident her ledgers were in order, she put down her pen and stood up from her desk. Heading out into the heart of the saloon to find -as had become routine- most of the members of the Van Der Linde gang had already settled in for another evening of drinking, talking and hustling the locals. 

After a day of non-stop problems, and with her last nerve frayed, Rae was relieved to finally find herself a moment of calm, and she didn't waste a moment in cutting across the room and slipping behind the bar to pour herself a stiff drink.

Each sip of whiskey she took relaxed her a little more as she leant against the end of the counter, letting her eyes roam around the large room. Considering all the faces of the patrons that still helped keep her business afloat, in spite of the Landry Syndicate's many attempts to shut things down. 

It was the middle of the week, and the mood was far less rowdy than that of a weekend, but it was still too early to guarantee a calm night. People were being civilized, sitting drinking or playing a game of cards and dominos. It was a perfect example of the times she enjoyed most, ones that reminded her why all the hard work was worth it, and that Landry and his goons hadn't entirely pissed on what her parents had fought to build. 

Somehow she'd still managed to maintain a place for the local folks to relax and forget the hardships of their lives beyond the saloon walls. Even though they often got rowdy and caused damages she could barely afford to repair, she still found something comforting in being the heart of the local community. Content in the belief that her father's dream was still alive and well in his absence. 

Pleased that things were peaceful, and all the days tasks had been completed, she turned her mind to caring for herself, and was about to head into the kitchen to sniff out some leftovers for dinner, when the saloon's back door burst open and Copper rushed in barking something fierce. 

Panicked at the sudden noise, Rae's eyes shot across the room to find Lenny in the doorway, struggling desperately to prop up Arthur, who was draped at his side, almost lifeless. 

Her throat instantly dried out in fear, eyes widening fearfully at the sight of bright red blood staining both the men's clothes. A fire instantly sparked within her and she dashed out from behind the bar, hurrying to the two men's aid.

"What the hell happened?" she cried, heart kicking out of her chest as Copper circled around them in worry. 

"We got ambushed." Lenny gasped, struggling to hold Arthur up a moment longer as Dutch, and Bill rushed in to take the strain from him just in time. Sean and the Callandar boys came over too, bringing their bottles of whiskey along for the ride, as all remaining heads in the saloon turned to stare. "Me-men in the trees." Lenny continued. "They got A-Arthur," he was still breathless in the panic, passing the broad cowboy to Bill. "I just kept on riding....f-fast as I could."

"You did good, son." Dutch assured, worry etched on his face as he helped to keep the wounded cowboy on his feet. 

"Get him in the kitchen." Rae insisted, her eyes scanning all over Arthur's limp body for a moment, noting that the blood was the darkest on his torso. Running on instinct through her panic, she spun back around to face the gawping patrons and yelled out over the low chatter - "Murphy!" 

The crowd parted, heads turning knowingly to the corner of the room where an older man stood up. He was missing an arm and had an eye patch on but he was quick to get to his feet and make his way over to assist, following after Rae and the others as they hustled into the kitchen and set to laying Arthur down on the large dining table. 

He groaned wearily in pain as his back touched down on the hard wood, showing signs of life that Rae feared were long gone. Slim and Pearson, who had been clearing up after dinner, ushered the new arrives in the kitchen and back against the counters, clearing the way to allow Murphy to step forward while Pearson called Copper under the table and silenced him with a juicy bone, as Rae rushed to gather supplies from the store room. 

Her throat was tight as her heart raced in fear, flying around the room snatching up scissors, rubbing alcohol, a knife and suture kit that they kept in a medical box in case of such emergencies. Trying her best to contain her emotions and focus on what needed to be done, while Murphy used Dutch's help and his own military experience to try and establish what had happened and where the blood was actually coming from. 

"He's got birdshot in the left flank and took some in the hand too." he announced as she rushed in and dropped arms full of equipment onto the nearest clear counter. "You're gonna have to dig it all out, Rae." 

"No no no!" Arthur cried, instantly perking up and breaking out of his daze, trying to sit up despite the agony, just to protest her involvement. "Get Grimshaw, or Swanson." he begged croakily. Horrified at the idea of a stranger he didn't know, or like particularly, ferreting around in his flesh. Especially a stranger that he felt so awkward and confused around. 

"There ain't time!" Dutch told, helping Sean to get Arthur's jacket off properly so Rae could work. "They went into town with Hosea." 

Arthur groaned and sank back into the table. His options for help were thin on the ground and even the idea of allowing Rae to tend to his injuries seemed better than letting Pearson or Bill loose on him. 

"Sean?" Dutch called to the young Irishman who was clearly trying hard not to pass a snarky comment on the situation. "Go on and bring 'em back here, quick as you can." 

"A'right!" Sean nodded. "Stay strong, English!" he called to Arthur before barrelling out the backdoor to find his horse. 

"Davey? Mac?" Dutch called out again, intent on thinning out the crowd in the kitchen. "Go make sure they weren't followed back here, and keep guard at the front and back doors, we don't need no trouble breaking out." The two men nodded and followed Sean out into the night, leaving just four to stand around and watch as Rae and Murphy prepped to help Arthur. 

Resigned to his fate, Arthur closed his eyes tightly and tried to fight back against the pain that was slicing through him so angrily. "Jesus Christ!" he mumbled with a wince, trying to focus on keeping breathing, while avoiding looking at Rae and the panic that was etched across her pretty face as she set out all she needed on a tray. 

"Bill? Can you get me some hot water." she asked and the large, bearded man jumped to it, hurrying outside to where he knew pots were warming around the camp fires. "Murphy was a medic in the war, before he lost his arm." Rae continued, trying to assure herself, as much as the rest of the room, that Arthur was under a wise eye. "He'll tell me what to do, and I've done this kind of thing before, plenty, so don't worry." She was harsh in her tone, but didn't mean to be, it was a reaction to the panic that sat like an acid in her gut. 

On that note, she hurried to the sink and began to wash up, lathering her hands with soap and pumping the water to wash it away. 

"Girl, you don't need to worry with all that." Murphy said, unsure why she found it so important to clean her hands only to get them bloodied. 

"Murphy, I told you before, someone was about to start ferretin' 'round in my skin, I'd be grateful if they'd do it with clean hands." she snapped, shutting off the water and grabbing a towel to dry off. Murphy scoffed but didn't protest any further. 

Afraid and wracked with guilt, Rae found her hands were already trembling. It would have been far easier to refuse the task, just keep Arthur' comfortable until someone else arrived to take over, but she couldn't walk away. It was her fault he'd had been hurt; she knew she should have returned the order herself. Something had told her hours earlier that bad things were afoot, but she'd ignored her instincts, and because of that someone else had been hurt in her place. 

On the table, Arthur was struggling to keep his eyes open, sleep felt like the most wonderful idea in that moment but before he could slip into unconsciousness Bill, crashed through the door, carrying an overfull bucket which splashed all over him and the kitchen floor. 

"I got the water, Rae." he announced proudly, holding it up a little higher to show her, despite the fact she could see it just fine from where she was. 

"Thanks, put it down over there for me." she gestured to the counter space nearest to Arthur, as she finished off drying her hands. Pearson handed Slim a bowl and he began decanting the liquid into it , adding a clean cloth before bringing it over to the table, while Rae battled to try and push aside the intoxicating cocktail of emotions that were swirling within her. Attempting to break her down and steal her focus. 

Fighting to set her mind to the task, she took to Arthur's side, quickly cutting away the shirt Dutch had Bill had helped loosen and undoing the clasp on his suspender, which allowed her to properly push back all the surrounding fabric to get a look at the damage to his right flank. 

She tried not to show a reaction in her face as she wiped away the blood that had already become sticky, telling her the worst may have been avoided. She could see that three small holes and one slightly larger one had embedded themselves into the meatiest part of his torso, narrowly missing his rib cage and -she hoped- vital organs. It seemed he took the blast at fairly close range and had been lucky to miss more of the lead directed at him.

"It's dried up for the most part, so I don't think it's too bad. Shouldn't be in too deep either." she hoped aloud. Knowing if the blood had been pumping out with the beat of his heart, Arthur would have been in big trouble. 

Arthur's eyes rolled, it sure felt a hell of a lot worse than she was making out, but he was afraid to try and touch where the pain radiated from himself. Fearing he would reach down and feel his own guts hanging loose in the breeze. 

Murphy moved in closer to the table and leaned in to inspect the injury with his good eye. "Reckon you should be able to get that out without causing too much more damage."

"You better!" Arthur groaned, twisting in pain as the elderly man prodded at his side with his only hand. 

Arthur heard the clinking of metal and glass besides him, and looked to his left where Rae was spilling rubbing alcohol over tools she was intending to jab into him. "Oh Jesus!" he moaned, hoping like hell that she was going to be gentle and not take it as an opportunity to extract some kind of revenge on him. 

"Here....let's get some of this into him." Pearson said, and Dutch set to work with Slim helping to prop Arthur up and force a good couple of glugs down his throat. 

Once he was plenty inebriated, Rae stepped back to the table and presented Arthur with a wooden spoon. "Bite this!" she told him flatly. 

"Wha-" before he could get a word out she trapped the spoon between his teeth. His eyes widened in response but he didn't struggle as she set to work. Hooking her foot into the leg of the nearest chair and pulling it up behind her, so she could sit close at his side. 

"Can you bring that lamp over here?" she asked out, pointing to the window. There was a good amount of light in the kitchen, but she wanted to be certain she left no room for error and no fragments behind to cause infection. 

Lenny was closest and the young man did as asked, picking up the lamp and moving closer to stand in just the right place to light up Arthur's injury but he was shaking, and so was the light. "Are you okay?" Rae asked, his dark skin looked ashen. 

"Yeah...I'm just....it all happened so fast....He was trying to keep them off us when he-" Lenny's voice trailed off, his eyes losing focus as the chaotic images replayed in his mind. 

"Did you get a look at any of them?" Dutch asked, as Slim stepped in and carefully took the lantern off Lenny, nodding to him to take the whiskey from Pearson and go sit down while he held the light instead. 

"Not really, they were in the trees." Lenny sighed, sinking into a chair at the foot of the table where he couldn't see any more of the blood and gore. 

"Sounds like O'Discrolls." Dutch pondered. 

"It's a Landry move, he's done it before." Rae insisted. "He's too much of a coward to have his men attack front on. They like to ambush people when they least expect it...." she shook her head angrily. "This is my fault, I should have known something was off when the order came in wrong, I should never have-" Dutch cut her off. 

"You didn't know what was going to happen."

She sighed heavily, wanting to continue to voice her guilt, but instead she focused through herself flagellation to help Arthur who was still softly squirming in pain and groaning against the spoon in his mouth. "Hold still, this is going to hurt."

Arthur's eyes widened in dread, his hand going to free the spoon but searing pain ripped through him taking all his fight, as Rae mercilessly poured rubbing alcohol over his wound to cleanse it properly. He screamed against the spoon, his own blue eyes locked onto hers. Confused amid his pain to see her so full of worry and sadness as she watched the blood wash away from his skin. 

Feeling his eyes burning into her, she looked up at him, holding his gaze for a beat as the intense stinging that wracked his body eased away. There was a sense of hot anger about her, that made Arthur uneasy but beneath that he saw a deep sense of concern and remorse that seemed to soothe him in the strangest of ways. 

Murphy's voice cut through their eye lock, as he passed her a pair of large but fine tweezers. "Here. Try these first, before digging around with a knife. You'll do less damage to the surrounding tissue." 

She nodded knowingly, and took the delicate tool from him, getting to work on trying to remove the fragments of buckshot as gently as possible. Arthur's head was spinning with the pain and panic of it all. He bit down on the spoon as hard as he could as Rae began to prod at him, working the tweezers into his flesh. 

He could tell she was trying to be gentle, and he doubted Miss Grimshaw would have been quite so kind, but the slightest touch hurt like hell. As if a burning poker was being jabbed into his side, stinging agony as she carefully tried to get purchase on the biggest piece of birdshot to pry it free. 

"It's in there real good." she worried, hoping with all she had that the pellet hadn't managed to lodged in any bone or organs. Arthur stared at her in quiet distress as she tried again to grasp the small lead ball that was causing so much pain. 

The agony he was in didn't allow him to fully appreciate it, but the way she had a little hint of tongue sticking out between her lips as she concentrated was as cute as the treatment was painful. He could feel everything as she wriggled the tweezers around in his flesh, desperately trying to tug out the offending foreign object. Going at it a little harder each time she failed to pry it free. 

"GOT IT!" she finally cried, yanking the first piece of the evil lead clean out and holding it up like she'd just fished a golden nugget out of the river, before quickly dropping it into a bowl and going straight back in for the rest. 

The whole room breathed a sigh of relief and Arthur relaxed back into the table, glad the worst part seemed to be over. The other three pieces weren't buried in his torso as deep and came out of his skin with minimal struggle, allowing her a few moments to tend to his hand too. Fishing out another few bits of lead that had lodged in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger, obviously caught in the shotgun blast. 

Once she was certain all the offending materials had been removed, she set to using carbolic soap and the hot water Bill had bought in, to gently cleanse the wound as best she could with a clean cloth, wiping away the debris while one of the men filled a clean jug with warm water so she could rinse out the wounds with flowing liquid a few times to ensure it was as clean as possible, before giving the whole thing a good rinse with some alcohol. Arthur hit the roof again, screaming against the spoon but she patted his hand tenderly. 

"That's the worst over with. Just gotta stitch you up." she assured him softly, as Slim passed her a small silver bowl where the needle and thread were waiting in rubbing alcohol. 

"It's lucky this happened here." Lenny commented, feeling a little better. "It's hard to keep anything this clean in camp." 

"Civilization does have its benefits." Dutch returned, watching on as Rae set to work in closing the wound series of small but incredibly painful wounds in Arthur's side, while his breathing returned to a steady speed and the tension in his body began to melt away a little. 

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch Earl Renshaw!" Rae grumbled as she worked, Arthur's ears caught on her words but he was too woozy to consider her anger was in his name. "He had to know about this." 

"Well, he's always been a slippery weasel." Slim piped up. "He'll sell out to the highest bidder."

"Yeah, and I guess my bid wasn't high enough anymore." Rae sighed. "So I've gotta go even further out to get supplies now. These Syndicate assholes are really starting to get on my last Goddamn nerve!" 

"I think we're going to have to go and have a word with Mr Landry." Dutch suggested darkly. 

"I'm surprised you managed to be here this long without seeing that moron showing his ass." Slim added in. 

Murphy scoffed heavily from where he hovered behind Rae, monitoring her work. "Hell, if I still had my shootin' arm, I'd have put one between that fools eyes a long time ago. He's ruining this damn town."

"I don't want it to come to that..." Rae insisted. "But if I don't do somethin', I'm afraid of where this is gonna end." 

"We'll come up with a plan." Dutch assured. "First things first, I need my best man patched up and back on his feet." 

Rae nodded, tying off the last of the sutures, and reaching out to Slim who was handing her a clean dressing, which she put in place over the wound on his side. She instructed Dutch and Bill to help Arthur sit up and delicately wrapped a bandage around thick torso as best she could. Trying hard not to acknowledge how nice of a body he had. Perfectly defined muscles in all the right places, a strong and powerful chest that looked as if it could protect her from all her problems. Light dustings of dark hair on taut skin which seemed to tense strangely whenever her fingertips brushed against him. 

Arthur told himself the funny sensation of her touch was due to all the pain that wracked his body. Every nerve ending there was raw and antagonized, reacting blindly to stimuli but the tingle in his loins came with no excuses or explanation he cared to acknowledge. He'd never in his life had he experienced such a bizarre mix of pain and pleasure and it made him horribly uneasy. 

"Alright, I think that will hold." Rae said, finishing up by wrapping the wound on his hand and fastening a safety pin onto the bandage, still avoiding eye contact with Arthur. 

Content she'd done a decent job, she got from her chair and stepped back a little way, allowing him to swing his legs over the table and sit on the edge, taking a few moments to get his balance back and get used to the feeling of the bandages around his body and right hand. Copper popped his head up from under the table, and wagged his tail happy to see his owner was well. Arthur gave him the best smile he could manage, which was barely a smile at all, but it came with a gentle pat on the head which was good enough for Copper. 

"We'll need to check it in a couple of days." Murphy put in. "As long as there's no infection or fever, you'll be fine." Arthur nodded, the relief of having the lead removed from his flesh gave him a little energy and he fidgeted back into his cut up shirt covered in dried blood, just as Miss Grimshaw, Hosea and Reverend Swanson came bursting through the interior door in a flurry of concern. 

"Mr Morgan!" she cried. "What on earth have you done to yourself now?"

"I'm fine, Miss Grimshaw." he dismissed, shakily attempting to get to his feet. 

"You look a long way from fine, my boy." Hosea griped, as Susan checked out the dressing to make sure it was in place and to her standard. 

"This is a good job." she confirmed, nodding to Rae who gave a faint smile. "Let's get you to bed, I've got some tonic that will help you heal." 

With that the crowds in the kitchen began to filter out, as Miss Grimshaw lead her men to the door. Dutch and Bill propping Arthur up again as Lenny hurried through and held the door open for them, letting the older members of the gang out into the night first. Which gave Arthur just a moment to look back over his shoulder and across the kitchen to Rae. 

She was leaning against the end of the far counter, her hands flat on the surface and her head bowed in remorse. Even from his side view he felt sure he could see the lamp light glinting on tears in her eyes. 

She must have felt him looking at her as she turned her head to catch his eye, showing him that he was right - her eyes were brimming over with emotion. With calm falling back around them her defences lowered and toxic guilt began to flood in. 

She held his gaze for a beat, trying as best she could to silently apologize for what she'd had to do and what her needs had caused to happen to him. Arthur didn't want to relent on holding her accountable, but the look on her face softened him to her in the strangest of ways. 

He gave a small nod, trying his best to indicate there were no hard feelings and to thank her for jumping to action so quickly. He wanted to say something more to her, to voice a real thank you or to tell her it wasn't her fault, but before he could find the words he was herded outside and off to his tent. Not that he would have been able to express himself properly, at least not in a room full of people, nor to a woman that confused, irritated and fascinated him in equal measure. 

Accepting his fate, Arthur allowed Dutch and Bill to take him to his tent, following after Copper who still had half a bone in his mouth, but happily lead them in to where Miss Grimshaw was waiting to hustle Arthur into bed. Grabbing a couple of extra pillows that Sean bought in to help sit him up so it was easier to breathe against the lingering sting in his side. 

With the flap of his tent open, the position of his cot allowed him to see a crowd was gathering outside along with an audible commotion. The voices of Javier, Sean, Davey, and the girls too, all pressing Dutch and Hosea for information about what had gone on and what they were going to do to even the score now Arthur was out of the woods. 

Arthur closed his eyes with a groan, hoping his father figures would settle things down and prevent any immediate retaliation. There was no sense in launching a return attack, they had to be smart and avoid things escalating as not one of the people there needed a full blown war to tight. 

Despite his reluctance to strike back, the mood outside didn't share the same sentiment. Even tucked away underneath the cozy canvas, he could feel the sudden atmosphere shift in the crowd around his tent and he tensed with them. 

"Where are you going?" Dutch's voice rang out firmly. 

Turning with the others to watch as Rae stormed down the back steps of the saloon towards the him and the crowd of his people. She had a gun belt hanging around her hips, a bandolier across her body and a shotgun in hand. 

"To sort this shit out!" she snapped gruffly. "If any of you guys are sober enough and wanna come, then I'd appreciate the help." Cheers went up and instantly the crowd began to jump into action. 

"Woah!" Dutch cried, holding up his hands and stepping in front of her before she could cut through them and inflame the situation further. "That's not how we do things." 

"Well, it's how I do 'em!" Rae barked. "Now get out of my way, please." she stepped forward determinedly, attempting to nudge Dutch aside but he wouldn't budge. Blocking her with his large frame and staring her down from his height advantage. 

"Revenge is a fools game, Rae." he insisted gently. "You run out there, all guns blazing, all it's gonna do is get more people hurt." 

"Then I'll go on my own." she told him flatly, making another start to budge him but he grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place. 

"No!" he said firmly, making her eyes scowl aggressively, warning him she wasn't above lashing out of she had to. "I know you're mad about this, I am too. Hell, we all are! But storming up there, in the dark, when you don't know who or what is waiting, you'll just get yourself killed." 

"I don't care!" Rae cried, it had been weeks without any problem and she felt like a fool for thinking that the syndicate had left her alone, but she'd been lulled into a false sense of security by having help and security on the ranch. Good people she'd bought in to help her run the place, people who were now getting hurt in the name of keeping her afloat. "I'm sick of this shit. It needs to end, now!" 

Hosea stepped up, putting his hand on Dutch's shoulder, silently getting him to loose go of his grip on Rae. "Dutch is right, Rae. We need to be smart about this. I think if this was planned by Landry then he already expects you to come flying back up to take his men on. He'll be waiting, and he'll probably have a dozen more men than are here right now."

Rae sighed softly, her fury was still red hot in her gut but she knew both of the men were talking sense, yet it didn't help the urge to want to kill something dead. "I didn't bring your people here to get hurt on my behalf. I'm not expectin' anyone here to take bullets just to keep this place runnin' neither." 

"I know that." Dutch assured. "But we don't need you getting yourself hurt or bringing hell down on this place. We all need to calm down and come up with a smart plan to put an end to this once and for all." 

Inside his tent Arthur had heard everything, and gathered what little strength he had to push up from his bed to make a start on getting back outside. Hoping to talk some clarity in to Rae and stop her running off into danger. 

He couldn't stand the idea of her going out and getting herself hurt in the name of avenging the harm that had come to him. He couldn't live with knowing she'd gained another scar on her body, not in his name. Even if the pain he was suffering came in hers. 

"Oh no you don't!" Miss Grimshaw dismissed, pushing him back down onto the bed effortlessly. Determined to force him to rest if necessary. 

"I have to-" 

"You don't have to do nothin', but rest and heal yourself. You understand me?" 

"If she-" 

"She won't. Dutch'll make sure of it, you know that." 

Arthur sighed, his body melting back into his bed. He ached and stung terribly, and despite his burning desire to stop her, he knew he stood no chance of holding Rae back if she wanted to get past him. In his current state he'd be knocked on his ass by a strong breeze. 

Frustrated but beaten, he resigned himself to staying horizontal and tuned his hearing back in to what was going on outside the tent. A relief washed over him to Dutch instruct everyone back inside for a drink. Sean said something that made Rae chuckle, but he couldn't hear what exactly the exchange was as Miss Grimshaw excused herself to go and gather some medicines. Exiting swiftly through the flap but she stopped short, just outside. 

Arthur saw a second slender shadow cast against the canvas by the nearby firelight and held his breath. 

"Is he okay?" Rae asked out softly, almost whispering as if she didn't want him to hear. 

"He'll be fine." Miss Grimshaw insisted. "He's had much worse than this, let me tell you." 

"Okay." Rae replied, her voice was soft almost as tearful in tone. "I didn't mean for-" 

"I know that." Miss Grimshaw replied tenderly. "He knows that too, and he doesn't want you going out there getting yourself hurt, you hear me?" Rae nodded solemnly. "Don't you be worrying about him neither. A week or so resting, he'll be healed up and you two can get back to giving each other the stink eye." Rae chuckled sadly, but Arthur wasn't sure if he should smile or cringe to know the gang's matriarch had noticed what had been going on between them. "Now, get on inside with the others. Have a drink and calm down. Listen to Dutch, he knows what's best for everyone." 

Arthur heard footsteps going off in two different directions and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was the shock of being shot or sheer bewilderment of hearing her -of all people- wanting to jump in and defend him, but he sure felt funny everywhere, especially in his head. 

He agreed with Dutch that it was foolish to seek vengeance, especially for a fire fight that didn't leave anyone dead, but to know she was so eager to fight back in his name filled him with a strange kind of warmth. He told himself it meant nothing, it was just her way of trying to make good on the damage done, but a tiny, unfamiliar part of him hoped it meant something more. 

He'd seen the look in her eye while she tended to his wounds, he'd seen so much worry and sadness. Nervousness and concern too. A strange mixture that he'd never seen anyone hold for him before, and a look that in itself fed a promise that said she did in fact feel something much more than just animosity towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I'll be back with more, if you want it! :)


	10. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, 
> 
> Again, I apologize for sucking at updating. My life consists of moving from one crisis to the next at the moment and finding a chance to write/edit gets harder all the damn time. :( Thank you all for the love and support on the last update and this story as a whole, it means the world to know you guys are diggin' this as my ideas for it keep expanding. Anyway, enough yappin'! Enjoy! :)

For the week following Arthur's shooting, Rae went to greater lengths to keep her distance from him. Relying on Miss Grimshaw and Murphy to monitor his healing and report back to her. Fortunately every update assured her that things were going well. 

The gang's matriarch seemed to sense Rae's worry and insisted with a caring firmness that Arthur healed quickly and better than most. Despite Miss Grimshaw's reassurances, it didn't stop the sting of guilt in Rae's heart that kept her awake at night. Torturing herself the fact that someone once again had been hurt because of her. 

That knowledge and the haunting vision of Arthur's blood played heavily on her mind. A ghost lingered in her hands, reminding her so clearly of how it felt to dig through his flesh for the birdshot that had hurt him. A physical memory that caused old wounds to open inside her in, cutting to core and souring her to herself ever further. 

Weeks earlier it had felt like the perfect solution to call on Hosea and his family for help, and things had been going so well with having them around. However all her fears about dragging others into her problems were starting to materialize. She felt like a fool for not acknowledging how it was only a matter of time until someone got hurt, or worse. 

She'd been surprised they'd lasted so long without any real trouble, but it made the slap of reality land so much harder, after coming to think the worst was behind her. Her conscience was already overlade with guilt that was rooted in her past, and she found the knowledge of another person being hurt because of her almost crushing. 

Even though Arthur had been nothing but hostile around her since they met, she didn't want him, or anyone suffering in her name. . She'd come to be fond of every new face and felt sick to her stomach at the idea of more of them suffering in her name. 

She still desperately wanted to fight back, and get revenge. To warn Landry off ever trying to hurt the people she knew again, but deep down she was afraid of the fight. She knew how much power he held, and it had been so long since she'd squared up against a similar sized threat.

Whenever Dutch saw her temper rise in the days that had passed since the incident, her reminded her that it would do more harm than good to react without a plan. He too was eager to confront the mystery man who had caused so much trouble, but he was insistent they all bided their time in taking any action. 

Rae knew Dutch had asked around town about Landry's whereabouts, but she knew the organized criminal kept a healthy distance from the mess he ordered made. He lived several hours ride away near Denver but had left his henchmen in place to handle his business. Dutch had made his beliefs known and insisted that there was no point in biting back on anyone but the man himself. He was adamant that they all had to wait until Landry returned to New Haven to have their chance at showing him Rae and the gang were not to be trifled with. 

Dutch had wisely stationed the Calandar boys in town, making sure they held their ears to the ground every day and instructing them to keep their eyes open for any changes to the local state of play or any mention of the man himself returning to town. 

As angry and eager to fight back as she was, Rae felt oddly relieved things hadn't escalated immediately after Arthur's injury. She knew acting in anger always ended up causing more problems but she was beyond keen to confront the bastard who was trying to put her out of business again. She knew altercation wasn't wise, since Landry always seemed to hit back with violence that no one saw coming. Towns and settlements across the country had all learned just how far the devious man and his organization would go to when it came to claiming dominion over small business and commerce in any place they had in their sights. 

Fortunately, Landry being in Denver bought them all time to circle the wagons while Arthur healed up and a plan that was smarter than violence began to form in Dutch's head. During the days that past Rae couldn't help but feel she should have tried harder to check in with the injured party, just to say hello and see how Arthur was doing for herself, but every time she stepped near his tent she lost her nerve. 

Her emotions felt so raw and she was afraid of what she might say or do if she saw his pain. Instead, she kept her distance and told herself it was for the best if she just left him be and focused on gathering her energy for the fight to settle the score with the bastard who'd ordered the ambush. 

After a week of no sightings at all, Rae began to see Arthur around camp more and more. He was holding himself funny, but pushing through to do simple chores and play a few games of cards here and there with the boys. She was constantly filled with the desire to approach him and ask how he was doing, but she didn't think her curiosity would be welcomed, so she kept her distance. 

If she was in his shoes, she would have been mad as hell at him, and she couldn't bear to face his distain. Instead, she busied herself with her duties around Sanctuary and trying her best to keep a close eye on just what supplies they had, knowing it would be so much harder to restock since her supply line had been corrupted. 

Almost ten days after the sneak attack that saw Arthur shot, she was in the store room at the back of the saloon kitchen, taking stock on what was left on the shelves and in the cupboards. Making a list of things for each of the camp members to go into New Haven and collect individually from the general store there, which was on strict Landry orders to not do any direct business with Rae. 

Her hope was that William Miller who ran the place didn't recognize any of the gang members as being associates of hers. The only way she was going to keep the saloon and ranch running was having a continual stream of Dutch's people going back and forth into town to gather a few bits and pieces at a time. Even if that worked, she had no idea how long the plan would hold for. Her gut instinct said the writing was on the wall, and that the saloon was fast approaching the end of the line. 

The constant pit in her stomach seemed to sink in a little deeper each day. She didn't know why she was fighting so hard to keep the place going, not when it was getting harder and harder to prop the place up. Hope for maintaining her livelihood and her parent's life's work was rapidly draining from her, making her question just what the point was of swimming against the ever strengthening tide. 

Busying herself by being productive, she set to trying to make what supplies she had stretch a little further. After counting the depleting bottles of whiskey, she noted an unmarked box on the top shelf at the far end of the storage room, she frowned having not noticed it before. The room had usually been so full it was easy to overlook an individual unmarked box. 

Placing down her clipboard and pen she pulled out a step stool and dragged it over to what she wanted to investigate. She stepped up and made a grab for the box, tugging hard, expecting it to give easily, knowing that the heaviest things were usually kept on the low shelves, but to her surprise and frustration the box was hard to budge. 

Frustrated but determined, she gave grunt and tugged again, but it moved only a fraction of an inch. "What the hell is in here?" she muttered to herself, reaching forward and locking both her arms around the back of the box and yanking it with all her might. The sudden shift in weight threw off her slightly balance and before she knew what was happening she was tumbling backwards off the step stool, the large box falling with her, bursting open and sending pots of hair pomade showering over her. 

"GODDAMN IT!" she yelled, landing with a heavy thud and jarring her back, several pots hitting her legs and torso. "Son of a bitch!" 

"Shit! You okay?" 

She flinched, her head jerking round to find the sound of the last voice she expected to hear. Rushing close to her side on heavy footsteps, was Arthur. 

She was too disorientated to become immediately flustered but she felt the heat of embarrassment growing rapidly in her cheeks and turned back to assess her dilemma. "Yeah, yeah...I'm fine." she dismissed, pushing the tins off herself and crawling back from the debris. 

She noticed in the corner of her eye that Arthur's hand was held out besides her, poised waiting to help her up. She sighed internally, not wanting to accept his assistance, especially as she knew he was still injured, but she didn't want to be rude either. She slapped her hand into his and let him help a little to pull her up to her feet. 

"Thanks." she said abruptly, snatching her hand from his and quickly dusting herself off. Trying to ignore the way an eruption of excitement was fizzing away in her gut at the touch of his skin on hers. 

"What happened?" he frowned, looking around the near empty stock room, trying not to visibly wince at how his wounds still stung. 

She shook her head and blew out a sigh. "I was just tryin' to take stock and saw this box...." she kicked the broken wooden container on the floor angrily. Feeling awash with nerves in his company, she instantly began to ramble. "Goddamn Red!" she griped. "We stopped havin' a barber in here about four years ago and this feller still keeps buyin' in pomade like it's goin' outta style....He's got three hairs on his whole of his damn head but he still insists on spendin' my money to keep 'em slicked back." 

Arthur chuckled raspily, trying to ignore how he was beginning to find her increasingly charming when she was mad and nervous as hell. "Lemme give you a hand." he said, bending to start picking up the wayward tins as best he could with only one side functioning at full capacity. 

"Well, you've only got one to offer." she teased heavy handed in her nervousness. 

Arthur scoffed at how bold she seemed. "Yeah, and who's fault is that?" he gave back too harshly, and the mood instantly changed. Returning winds of hostility blowing Rae's light heartedness away and leaving a tension lingering in the air. 

Arthur could have sworn he saw her physically sink back within herself and he hated it. The heat of regret stung him deeper than the lingering pain in his wounds and he sighed heavily. "Shit!" He always managed to put his foot in it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anythin' by that I was just-" she cut him off. 

"No. You're right. It is my fault you got hurt. I've been meanin' to come by and tell you I'm sorry that happened to you, but...." she had no real excuses for avoiding him, she just couldn't find the nerve within her. "I didn't mean for it-" he cut in standing up straighter against the pain to show his determination. 

"You didn't know what was gonna happen, and besides, I'm still alive and I've had worse than this. So ain't no real harm done." he tried to reassure her with his eyes but she just nodded sad and slow glancing around the floor like she wanted it to open up and swallow her. He'd seen enough guilt in her eyes, the night he was sprawled out wounded on her kitchen table, to know she felt his pain and remorse for it to her very core. 

"How's it feeling?" she looked to where she knew the wound to be on his side. There was no sign of it through the blue union shirt he was wearing, but it was obvious something on his torso hurt by the way he held himself at a slant and how his suspender was looser on one side, setting his whole outfit slightly askew. 

"It's alright. You did a good job." he nodded and she gave a small smile, struggling to hold eye contact with him. He hoped her unease was to do with anything other than her knowing that he'd spied on her in the bath a couple of weeks earlier. He was still kicking himself over that, but he couldn't deny the images in his mind had helped him through his healing. 

"Thanks." she said faintly, as if she wasn't willing to accept the praise. 

"It's a bit sore still though, and real stiff these last couple days, but it's gettin' there." 

"I might have somethin' that could help..." Rae said thoughtfully, a little confidence returning to her and brightening her eyes. "Come up to the house later on and I'll find out the recipe for you." 

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." she insisted and Arthur couldn't fight. He liked the fact they were being civil to one another and that there seemed to be no real hard feelings for anything between them. He was tired of avoiding her and being a stubborn fool about everything. After touching disaster which could have easily ended in his death, it seemed trivial to hold hostility where there was no call or real harm done to warrant it. 

"Alright." he nodded. "Lemme help you pick this mess up." 

Rae didn't much want to put him out, but he seemed eager to help, so she let him. Making sure she gathered the pomade pots quicker than he could, just to lessen his load. 

"So how come you don't have a barber here no more?" he asked, preventing an awkward silence, as he placed a golden pot besides another on the nearest shelf. 

"The feller who used to work here retired, and we just never got round to replacin' him, I guess."

"Shame." Arthur commented. "I could use a haircut." 

"There's a barber in town." she said, her arms bundled with pots. "I can't speak much for his prices but I hear he does a good job."

"I might go see him when I'm back ridin'."

"How much longer, you reckon?" she asked, clearly pained to know he was forced to sit out on so many aspects of his life. 

"Murphy says I should give it another week or so, just to make sure I'm all healed up and nothin' gets disturbed." Arthur reached in and help take some of the tubs from her load, standing beside her and putting them on the shelf together, working like a halfway decent team. "Boadicea's gettin' restless in that paddock. Lenny and Sean are doin' a good job lookin' after her n'all, but..." he trailed off, feeling awkward and stupid for talking about the horse that had caused such a big issue between them. 

"She's a beautiful horse." Rae smiled taking the last can of pomade from him and placing it on the stacks they'd gathered. 

"Would you er..." Arthur hadn't realized he was vocalizing the thoughts in his head until it was too late to pull them back, and she was looking at him expectantly. "I mean...if you have time....would you....maybe take her out for a ride? Just round the acreage, you don't need to go far. I think she likes you, she won't let the boys mount her." 

Rae's smiled widened; hope filling her foolish heart. "You sure you won't kill me for tryin'?"

"Nah, I'll give you a pass. _This time._ "

She chuckled softly, shyly glancing away, unsure of the funny sensation inside of her resonating from the way he was looking at her. So sweetly for someone so gruff. "Alright. I'll take her downriver a ways in the mornin'."

"She'd loved that." Arthur gave a gentle smile, holding her eyes for a beat or two, enjoying the fact they'd seemingly come to a truce. 

"Silas-" she hesitated, realising Arthur had no clue who she was referencing. "My horse. He hates the water, but it's a beautiful ride down that way." 

"Nothin' fazes Bo," Arthur assured. "Not even being stolen." his eyes sparkled with a playful antagonism and Rae snickered, biting her bottom lip, a little nervous to be enjoying Arthur's company quite so much. 

Happy with the way things were, Arthur didn't want to outstay his welcome and over saturate the interaction that was going well, so he awkwardly made his excuses. "Well, I best get back to it."

"Alright, I'll have the stuff for your shoulder ready after supper." 

"Ok." he nodded. "I'll see you then." With that he headed for the door, giving a glance over his shoulder to her one last time and finding she was still watching him. They exchanged soft, almost nervous smiles before finally parting ways. 

On his way through the kitchen and back outside Arthur felt incredibly lighter; as if some of the constant weight on his shoulders had broken free. It was tiring to keep finding a reason to hold issue with her, and he was starting to admire her grit. For the first time in weeks he felt a little bud of excitement begin to blossom in the depths of his stomach. The thought of seeing her that evening, and her going out of her way to offer him something to help his injury felt special in a strange kind of way. 

He knew it was a peace offering on her part, just as asking her to take Boadicea out had been from him. They were making amends and putting the misconceptions behind them, voiding out all the mistakes they'd already made in the hopes of starting fresh. It was a shame blood had to be shed to get them there but in the oddest way Arthur was suddenly grateful to the shotgun shell he'd taken. 

Perhaps the encroaching winter wouldn't be quite so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was worth the wait. I promise the next chapter will be out quicker, if you want it of course! ;)


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